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Ten  Years  in  the  Ranks 
U.  S.  Army 


BY 


AUGUSTUS  MEYERS   »  8  4  I  - 


NEW  YORK 
THE  STIRLING  PRESS 
1914 


COPYRIGHT,  1914 

BY  AUGUSTUS  MEYERS 

NEW  YORK 


UBRARY 


Preface 


HpHIS  narrative  of  ten  years'  service 
•*-  in  the  United  States  Army  on  the 
frontier  and  during  the  Civil  War  at  an 
early  period  of  my  life  is  written  mainly 
from  memory  after  an  interval  of  more 
than  half  a  century.  I  have  endeavored 
to  describe  in  a  simple  manner  the  daily 
life  of  a  soldier  in  the  ranks  while  serv- 
ing in  garrison,  camp  and  field. 

AUGUSTUS  MEYERS. 


Table  of  Contents 

PART  I.        Enlistment  and    Service  on    Governor's 

Island,  New  York  Harbor,  in  1854    ...        1 

PART  II.       At  Carlisle  Barracks,  Pa.,  in  1855       .     .      33 

PART  III.     Journey    from    Carlisle    to    Fort   Pierre 

Nebraska,  Territory,  in  1855 49 

PART  IV.      Fort  Pierre  and  the  Sioux  Indians,  1855- 

1856 71 

PART  V.       Establishing  Fort  Lookout,  1856-1857     .    109 

PART  VI.  Service  at  Fort  Randall,  Campaigning  in 
Kansas  and  Expiration  of  My  Enlistment, 
1857-1859  127 

PART  VII.    Re-enlistment  and  Return  to  Frontiers,  1860    157 

PART  VIII.  Service  in  Washington  and  Georgetown, 

D.  C.,  1861-1862 177 

PART  IX.      The  Peninsula  Campaign,  1862     ....    197 
PART  X.       The  Seven  Days'  Retreat,  1862    ....    225 

PART  XL     Harrison's  Landing  to  Fredericksburg,  Va. 

1862-1863       257 

PART  XII.    Chancellorsville  to  Winter  Camp  of  1863- 

1864 287 

PART  XIII.  In  Grant's  Campaign,  1864 311 

PART  XIV.  Departure  from  the  Field  and  Last  Days 

of  Service,  1865 341 

REFLECTIONS 351 

ADDENDA  353 


PART  I. 

ENLISTMENT  AND  SERVICE  ON  GOVERNOR'S  ISLAND,  NEW  YORK 
HARBOR,  IN  1854. 

ON  March  thirty-first,  1854,  with  the  consent  of  my 
widowed  mother,  I  joined  the  United  States  Army.  I 
enlisted  for  a  period  of  five  years,  as  a  musician  in 
the  general  service,  at  the  recruiting  office,  at  No.  115  Cedar 
Street,  New  York  City.  My  age  was  twelve  years  and  nine 
months.  I  was  of  slender  build,  but  in  good  health  and  passed 
the  medical  examination.  After  being  sworn  in  at  a  notary's 
office  in  Nassau  Street,  I  was  conducted  by  the  recruiting 
sergeant  to  the  Governor's  Island  boat  landing  at  the  Battery  ; 
there  he  placed  me  in  charge  of  Sergeant  John  Brown,  cocks- 
wain of  the  eight-oared  barge  manned  by  soldiers  from  the 
Island.  As  this  was  then  the  only  way  for  passengers  to  reach 
the  Island,  I  had  to  wait  a  long  time  for  the  next  trip  of  the 
barge,  and  it  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  we  started. 

There  were  but  few  passengers  besides  myself,  a  woman, 
a  civilian  or  two  and  a  few  soldiers  returning  from  "pass," 
more  or  less  hilarious.  After  a  struggle  with  the  swift  cur- 
rents of  the  East  River  and  considerable  pitching  and  tossing, 
we  landed  at  the  Island  dock  near  the  Guard  House,  where 
I  was  taken  in  charge  by  a  corporal  of  the  guard  who  conducted 
me  to  the  South  Battery  on  the  east  side  of  the  Island  opposite 
Brooklyn,  where  the  boys  learning  music  were  in  quarters. 
We  reported  to  Sergeant  Hanke,  who  was  in  charge  of  all  the 
non-commissioned  officers  and  music  boys  in  that  battery. 

Sergeant  Hanke,  after  looking  me  over,  asked  whether  I 
desired  to  learn  to  be  a  drummer  or  a  fifer.  When  I  expressed 
a  preference  for  the  former,  he  made  some  remarks  about  my 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

slim  and  very  youthful  appearance,  and  advised  me  to  think 
it  over  for  a  day  or  two.  He  called  for  Corporal  Butler,  who 
conducted  me  to  Room  No.  1  on  the  ground  floor,  to  the 
south  of  the  sally-port,  of  which  he  had  charge. 

On  my  entrance  into  the  room  there  arose  a  cry  of  "Fresh 
fish"  from  the  boys  who  were  present.  They  surrounded 
me,  asked  my  name,  where  I  lived  and  many  other  questions 
and  demanded  to  know  whether  I  had  any  money  or  tobacco, 
taking  no  pains  to  hide  their  disappointment  when  I  con- 
fessed that  I  had  neither.  The  corporal,  who  had  left  the 
room,  fortunately  returned  soon  and  relieved  my  embarrassing 
position.  He  assigned  me  to  "bunk"  with  the  only  boy  in 
the  room  who  had  no  bedfellow  or  "bunkie." 

The  corporal's  presence  diverted  the  boys'  attention  from 
me  for  a  while  and  gave  me  time  to  examine  my  surroundings. 
I  found  myself  in  a  room  with  two  windows  that  overlooked 
the  parade  ground  and  one  facing  inward  towards  the  interior 
of  South  Battery.  There  were  six  iron  double  bedsteads  in 
the  room  and  a  single  bedstead  for  the  corporal  in  a  corner 
next  to  a  window.  The  double  bedsteads  were  made  so  that 
one-half  could  be  folded  up  over  the  other  half  when  not  in 
use.  This  in  a  measure  relieved  during  the  day  the  very 
crowded  condition  at  night  when  all  the  beds  were  down. 
The  beds  consisted  of  a  bedsack  stuffed  with  straw,  which 
was  rolled  up  in  the  day  time,  and  a  pair  of  blankets,  neatly 
folded,  laid  on  top.  There  were  no  sheets  nor  pillows  for  the 
boys — the  corporal  was  the  only  one  who  enjoyed  these 
luxuries,  and  he  had  provided  them  himself.  The  boys  slept 
on  the  bedticks  and  covered  themselves  with  their  blankets 
when  it  was  cold,  or  used  one  of  the  blankets  to  lie  on  when 
it  was  warm  enough,  folding  up  a  jacket  or  some  other  piece 
of  clothing  as  a  substitute  for  a  pillow. 

A  wide  shelf  around  the  room  above  the  beds  provided 
space  for  knapsacks,  extra  shoes,  drums,  fifes,  and  other  ob- 
jects, and  on  hooks  under  the  shelf  were  hung  the  overcoats. 
There  was  a  coal  fire  burning  in  the  grate.  A  few  wooden 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

benches  and  a  chair  for  the  corporal  in  charge;  this,  with  a 
water  pail  and  a  tin  cup  on  a  shelf  behind  the  door,  com- 
pleted the  furniture  of  the  room. 

After  a  while  I  heard  a  drum  beat,  which  was  the  first 
call  for  "retreat."  Ten  minutes  later,  the  "assembly"  sounded 
to  form  ranks  on  the  parade  outside  of  the  sally-port.  The 
boys  formed  in  two  ranks,  those  who  were  proficient  with 
their  drums  and  fifes  on  the  right.  The  command,  "parade 
rest,"  was  given  by  one  of  the  sergeants,  and  the  "retreat" 
played  by  the  musicians  as  prescribed  in  the  regulations. 
Then  came  the  command,  "Attention,"  and  a  roll  call,  at 
which  each  boy  present  answered,  "Here."  Some  special 
orders  were  read  and  then  at  the  command,  "Break  ranks, 
march,"  the  boys  rushed  back  to  their  quarters,  to  deposit 
their  instruments  and  adjourn  to  the  mess  room  in  the  base- 
ment for  supper. 

I  was  directed  to  follow,  and  found  the  mess  room  large 
enough  to  hold  the  entire  company  of  boys  at  one  sitting. 
There  were  long  pine  tables  and  benches  without  backs,  all 
scrubbed  clean.  At  each  boy's  place  was  a  thin  plate,  con- 
taining a  small  portion  of  stewed  dried  apples,  a  large  stone 
china  bowl  filled  with  black  coffee  (sweetened  but  without 
milk)  and  a  slice  of  bread  about  four  ounces  in  weight.  There 
were  iron  spoons,  knives  and  forks,  and  a  few  dishes  on  the 
table  containing  pepper  and  salt. 

I  asked  one  of  the  boys  if  they  had  the  same  kind  of  a 
supper  every  day,  and  was  informed  that  sometimes  they  got 
molasses  in  place  of  the  dried  apples.  As  the  boys  finished 
their  meager  supper  they  left  the  mess  room  without  any 
formality  and  returned  to  their  quarters  or  went  out  to  have 
a  smoke  in  some  place  unobserved.  I  went  back  to  my  quarters 
and  sat  on  a  bench,  chatting  with  some  of  the  boys,  who 
told  me  many  things  about  their  daily  duties  and  the  treat- 
ment they  received.  They  all  wished  to  leave  the  Island,  and 
hoped  to  be  sent  soon  to  join  a  regiment  somewhere.  Some 
were  reading  books  by  the  feeble  tallow  candle  light,  some 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

played  checkers  on  home-made  checker  boards,  or  amused 
themselves  with  other  games. 

Thus  passed  the  evening  until  nine  o'clock  when  the  call 
for  "Tattoo"  sounded.  There  was  considerably  more  music 
than  at  "Retreat,"  otherwise  it  was  the  same.  There  was 
another  roll  call  and  dismissal  to  quarters,  where  the  beds 
were  let  down  and  the  blankets  spread.  With  a  little  sky- 
larking, the  boys  undressed  and  lay  down.  The  orderly  covered 
the  fire  in  the  grate  with  ashes,  "Taps"  were  sounded  by  the 
drummer  detailed  for  that  purpose,  lights  were  extinguished, 
and  all  were  supposed  to  be  silent.  But  there  was  whispering 
and  smothered  laughing,  which  ceased  only  after  some  vigor- 
ous language  and  threats  of  reporting  by  the  corporal. 

I  lay  down  alongside  of  my  strange  bedfellow,  who  kindly 
shared  his  blanket  with  me,  my  head  pillowed  on  my  jacket. 
There  was  a  glimmering  light  from  the  fireplace,  by  which  I 
could  make  out  the  forms  of  my  companions  and  that  of 
the  corporal  stretched  out  on  his  more  comfortable  bed  in  the 
corner.  Soon  all  seemed  to  be  asleep  except  myself.  I  re- 
mained awake  a  long  time,  thinking  of  the  circumstances  that 
had  brought  me  here,  the  strange  company  I  was  sharing,  and 
wondering  what  my  future  would  be.  At  last,  weary  with  the 
day's  unusual  experiences  and  excitements,  I  also  fell  asleep. 
And  thus  ended  my  first  day  as  a  soldier  in  the  United  States 
Army. 

I  was  awakened  next  morning  at  daylight  by  a  drummer 
beating  the  first  call  for  "Reveille,"  and  the  corporal's  voice 
shouting,  "Get  up !  you  lazy  fellows,"  to  some  who  were  slow 
to  respond.  The  boys,  who  slept  in  their  underclothing, 
hastily  put  on  their  pants,  stockings  and  shoes.  Then  each 
grabbed  a  tin  wash  basin  from  its  hook  in  the  hall,  went  out 
of  doors  to  a  pump  and  filled  the  basin,  which  he  carried  into 
the  hall,  and,  placing  it  on  a  bench,  performed  his  ablutions, 
drying  himself  on  a  roller  towel.  In  the  warm  season  this 
performance  took  place  out  of  doors.  It  was  a  cold,  raw  morn- 

4 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

ing,  and  it  made  me  shiver  as  I  followed  the  others  outside ;  but 
I  concealed  my  distress  to  avoid  being  laughed  at. 

We  finished  dressing,  and  soon  heard  the  drum  beat  the 
"Assembly/*  and  the  corporal's  call  to  "Turn  out  and  fall  in." 
Ranks  were  formed,  as  at  "Retreat"  and  "Tattoo,"  and  the 
roll  was  called.  The  fifers  and  drummers  played  the  "Reveille," 
which  was  a  much  longer  performance  than  either  "Retreat" 
or  "Tattoo."  It  consisted  of  perhaps  a  half  dozen  tunes, 
commencing  with  a  piece  called  "Three  Camps,"  then  "Slow 
Scotch,"  "Austrian,"  "Dutch,"  "Quick  Scotch,"  'Hessian,"  etc. 
Some  of  these  pieces  were  played  in  slow  time  and  others  in 
quick  time;  they  and  the  regular  calls  were  the  same  as  were 
used  at  the  time  of  the  American  Revolution  and  had  never 
been  materially  changed  since. 

Immediately  after  we  were  dismissed,  we  went  to  break- 
fast which  consisted  of  a  small  piece  of  boiled  salt  pork — 
cold — a  piece  of  bread  and  a  large  bowl  of  black  coffee. 
There  was  also  some  grease  in  a  dish,  saved  from  the  boiling 
of  the  pork,  which  some  of  the  boys  spread  on  their  bread 
as  a  substitute  for  butter,  seasoning  it  with  pepper  and  salt. 

Soon  after  breakfast  "Doctor's  Call"  sounded,  and  those 
who  felt  unwell  were  conducted  to  the  hospital  to  be  examined 
by  the  surgeon.  The  boys  now  became  busy  making  up  their 
beds,  cleaning  their  shoes,  brushing  their  clothes  and  polish- 
ing their  brass  buttons  with  the  aid  of  a  brush  and  what  was 
called  a  "button  stick."  Some  pipe-clayed  or  chalked  the 
white  braid  on  their  jackets.  The  room  orderly,  who  was 
changed  daily,  swept  the  floor,  replenished  the  fire  and  every- 
thing in  the  room  was  put  in  order  for  the  daily  inspection 
made  by  Sergeant  Hanke. 

At  eight  o'clock  came  the  call  to  "fall  in"  for  guard  mount- 
ing, ranks  were  formed  and  after  a  critical  inspection  as  to 
cleanliness  by  the  sergeant,  the  company  marched  to  the  main 
parade  ground  in  the  center  of  the  Island.  About  the  same 
time  we  heard  a  band  playing  as  it  left  the  main  garrison 
followed  by  the  guard  detail  for  the  day.  The  lines  were 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

formed,  the  adjutant  and  the  officer  of  the  day  took  their 
places.  Then  the  arms,  accoutrements  and  clothing  were  in- 
spected. An  orderly  for  the  commanding  officer  was  selected 
from  the  guard  and  one  from  the  boys  for  the  adjutant. 

The  entire  interesting  ceremony  of  the  Guard  Mount  was 
performed  according  to  regulation,  the  band  playing  at  in- 
tervals. The  guard  passed  in  review,  marched  off  to  their 
station  and  relieved  the  old  guard.  The  boys  were  marched 
back  to  the  South  Battery  where,  shortly  after  their  arrival, 
a  call  for  "School"  sounded  at  nine  o'clock.  As  I  was  in 
citizen's  clothing  I  did  not  have  to  take  part  in  any  formation 
of  ranks.  I  was  simply  a  spectator  until  I  was  uniformed. 

At  eleven  o'clock  school  was  over  and  practice  on  the  fife 
and  drum  continued  until  noon.  The  drummers,  twenty-five 
or  more  in  number,  went  outside  and  made  a  great  racket 
under  the  east  wall  of  the  South  Battery,  which  could  be 
heard  on  the  other  side  of  Butter  Milk  Channel  in  Brooklyn. 
They  were  in  charge  of  their  instructor,  Sergeant  Moore,  who 
was  called  the  drum  major  and  had  Corporal  Butler  as  an 
assistant.  I  watched  the  boys  practicing  and  noted  how  diffi- 
cult it  seemed  to  be  for  some  to  hold  the  drum-sticks  properly 
and  beat  the  first  exercise,  called  "Mammy-Daddy,"  without 
hitting  the  rim  of  the  drum  as  often  as  the  drum-head,  which 
would  bring  down  upon  them  a  reprimand  from  the  instructor, 
or  in  some  cases  a  rap  across  the  knuckles  for  some  persistently 
awkward  boy.  When  I  took  note  of  the  exceedingly  large  and 
heavy  drums  used  in  the  service  at  that  time,  which  the  drum- 
mers were  obliged  to  carry,  I  resolved  to  become  a  fifer,  as  I 
considered  it  more  genteel  and  a  step  towards  acquiring  some 
knowledge  of  music. 

While  the  drummers  were  practicing  outside  of  the  Battery, 
Sergeant  Hanke,  the  fife-major,  and  a  corporal  were  instruct- 
ing an  equal  number  of  fifers  in  the  school  room  that  was  filled 
with  a  shrill  din  as  each  tried  to  play  a  different  tune. 

At  noon  musical  instruction  ceased,  and  we  went  to  the 
mess  room  for  dinner.  The  menu  consisted  of  a  bowl  of  rice 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

soup  containing  some  desiccated  vegetables,  a  small  piece  of 
boiled  beef  and  the  usual  piece  of  bread.  I  was  told  that  about 
three  times  a  week  there  was  bean  soup  served  with  boiled 
salt  pork  or  bacon  and,  at  rare  intervals,  one  or  two  boiled 
potatoes. 

After  dinner  there  was  nothing  to  do  until  two  o'clock 
when  school  opened  again  for  two  hours.  At  four  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon  drill  commenced.  The  boys  were  instructed 
in  what  was  called  the  "School  of  the  Soldier" — facing,  march- 
ing, etc.  They  drilled  singly  at  first,  then  in  squads  and  finally 
by  company  according  to  Scott's  Tactics,  always  without  arms. 
Drill  was  over  at  five  o'clock  when  there  was  a  rest  until  "Re- 
treat." This  was  the  daily  routine  of  duties,  except  on  Satur- 
days, when  they  ceased  at  noon. 

On  Saturday  afternoons  some  of  the  boys  were  detailed  in 
turn  to  scrub  and  holy-stone  the  floor  of  our  quarters  and  the 
benches,  which  consumed  some  hours.  The  remainder  of  the 
boys  were  free  to  do  as  they  pleased. 

On  Sundays  we  attended  guard  mounting  at  eight  in  the 
morning  and  at  ten-thirty  we  marched  in  a  body  to  the  Epis- 
copal Chapel,  a  short  distance  from  our  quarters.  The  chapel 
was  a  frame  structure,  seating  about  two  hundred  besides  the 
music  boys.  The  services  were  attended  by  some  of  the  offi- 
cers and  their  families,  soldiers'  wives  and  their  children  and 
such  of  the  soldiers  and  recruits  as  wished  to  attend.  There 
was  no  regular  post  chaplain ;  I  do  not  think  there  were  any  in 
the  army  at  this  time.  A  minister  from  New  York  or  Brook- 
lyn conducted  the  services.  I  do  not  remember  whether  any 
collections  were  taken  up — if  there  were  I  am  sure  it  was 
fruitless  so  far  as  the  boys  were  concerned,  unless  the  Sunday 
immediately  succeeded  a  pay  day. 

The  interior  of  the  chapel  was  very  plain,  only  one  aisle 
had  cushioned  seats  and  they  were  not  for  our  use.  There 
was  a  small  organ  and  a  few  wooden  tablets  were  hung  on  the 
walls.  One  of  them  was  much  larger  than  the  others.  It 
commemorated  the  wreck  of  the  steamer  San  Francisco,  bound 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

for  California,  and  the  drowning  of  a  number  of  soldiers  and 
music  boys,  whose  names  were  on  the  tablet.  This  always  in- 
terested me,  and  if  the  sermon  was  dull  or  I  felt  sleepy,  I 
would  read  it  over  and  over  again  until  I  could  repeat  all  the 
names  by  heart. 

On  Sunday  afternoon  we  were  free  to  roam  about  the  island 
as  we  pleased,  until  about  sun-down  when,  if  the  weather 
permitted,  we  had  "dress  parade"  on  the  main  parade  ground. 
This  was  a  more  elaborate  ceremony  than  guard  mounting. 
It  was  always  interesting  to  me  and  I  liked  to  attend  it.  The 
post  band  turned  out  and  all  the  armed  soldiers  on  the  island 
were  present  as  well  as  our  "Field  Music  Battalion."  We 
made  a  fine  show,  and  sometimes  we  had  a  few  spectators 
who  came  from  the  city  in  row  boats.  Once  in  every  two 
months  we  had  muster  and  general  inspection  by  the  com- 
manding officer  of  the  post,  who  called  the  roll  and  looked 
over  the  arms,  accoutrements,  clothing  and  quarters.  For  this 
inspection  we  were  obliged  to  appear  on  parade  in  full  march- 
ing order,  our  knapsacks  packed  and  bulging  with  our  spare 
clothing.  Muster  was  a  preliminary  to  pay  day,  an  event 
always  welcomed. 

On  my  second  day  on  the  island  I  was  taken  to  the  quarter- 
master's store  house  to  draw  the  first  installment  of  my  yearly 
clothing  allowance.  There  were  issued  to  me,  one  blanket, 
one  great  coat,  two  fatigue  jackets,  two  pairs  of  trousers,  two 
pairs  of  white  flannel  shirts,  two  pairs  of  Canton  flannel 
drawers,  two  pairs  of  woolen  stockings,  two  pairs  of  shoes, 
one  forage  cap  and  one  leather  stock,  also  a  knapsack,  a 
haversack  and  a  canteen. 

The  blanket  was  coarse  and  heavy;  it  weighed  five  pounds 
and  measured  seven  by  five  and  a  half  feet.  It  was  grayish 
brown  in  color  and  had  "U.  S."  in  four  inch  black  letters 
worked  in  the  centre.  The  overcoat  as  well  as  the  trousers 
and  jacket,  were  of  coarse  sky-blue  cloth.  The  overcoat  was 
single  breasted  and  had  a  cape  reaching  down  to  the  elbows  ; 
there  was  a  row  of  brass  buttons  on  the  breast  and  on  the 

8 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

cape  and  some  more  on  the  coat  tails.  The  jacket  came  to 
the  hips,  had  a  standing  collar,  an  inside  breast  pocket,  a  row 
of  brass  buttons  down  the  front  and  a  few  on  the  sleeves. 
The  shoes  were  coarse  looking  with  broad  toes  and  heels  and 
leather  thongs,  but  they  were  good  serviceable  marching  shoes. 
The  trousers  were  plain  without  stripes  and  had  two  pockets. 
There  were  no  waistcoats  issued.  The  forage  or  fatigue  cap 
was  a  heavy,  clumsy  looking  affair,  made  of  thick  dark  blue 
cloth.  It  had  a  large  overhanging  crown  with  a  welt,  a  chin- 
strap  with  a  brass  button  on  each  side  and  a  leather  visor. 

The  most  objectionable  part  of  the  whole  uniform  was  the 
leather  stock  or  "dog  collar,"  as  we  called  it,  intended  to  serve 
as  a  cravat  and  keep  the  soldier's  chin  elevated.  It  was  a  strip 
of  stiff  black  shoe  leather  about  two  and  one-half  inches  high 
and  arranged  to  fasten  at  the  back  of  the  neck  with  a  leather 
thong.  It  was  torture  to  wear  it  in  hot  weather,  but  we  found 
means  to  modify  the  annoyance  by  reducing  the  height  of  the 
stock  and  shaving  down  the  thickness  of  the  leather  until  it 
became  soft  and  pliable. 

As  the  soldiers'  clothing  was  made  up  in  men's  sizes  only, 
there  were  none  to  fit  the  boys.  I  believe  there  were  about 
six  different  sizes  in  shoes  and  three  or  four  in  clothing.  The 
smallest  size  in  clothing,  No.  1,  was  issued  to  me,  and  I  was 
sent  to  the  post  tailor.  He  took  my  measure  and  altered  the 
great  coat,  jackets  and  trousers.  He  also  put  some  white 
braid  on  the  collar  and  sleeves  of  one  of  my  jackets.  The 
cost  of  these  alterations  were  deducted  from  my  first  pay  due. 
It  was  moderate  enough,  for  the  tailor's  price  as  well  as  those 
of  the  laundress  and  the  sutler  were  fixed  by  the  Post  Council 
of  Administration.  With  the  shirts  and  drawers  I  was  obliged 
to  get  along  without  alterations,  voluminous  though  they  were. 
The  shoes  were  too  large  for  me  also,  but  the  thick  woolen 
socks  helped  to  fill  them.  No  dress  coats  were  furnished  to 
the  boys  while  they  were  on  the  Island.  We  only  got  those 
after  joining  a  regiment. 

9 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

In  about  a  week  my  clothes  were  ready.  I  arrayed  myself 
in  my  new  sky-blue  uniform,  experiencing  a  boy's  pleasure 
in  a  new  suit  and  some  pride  in  what  I  considered  my  fine 
soldierly  appearance.  We  were  not  allowed  to  keep  any  citi- 
zen's clothing,  so  I  sold  my  clothes  to  a  Hebrew  "Old  Go' 
Man"  who  often  visited  the  island  for  that  purpose.  He  paid 
me  a  dollar  for  them,  the  possession  of  which  made  me  quite 
popular  with  a  few  of  the  boys  who  showed  me  where  we 
could  buy  pies  and  ginger-pop  at  the  sutler's  store. 

On  the  third  day  after  my  arrival,  I  was  ordered  to  com- 
mence attending  school  and  to  learn  music.  The  school  was 
in  a  room  within  the  South  Battery,  which  was  much  too  small 
for  the  attendance.  There  were  some  pine  desks  and  benches, 
a  blackboard,  desks  and  chairs  for  two  teachers  and  some 
shelves.  We  were  divided  into  several  classes  and  were  in- 
structed in  three  R's  by  Sergeant  Evans  who  taught  the  older 
boys  and  by  Corporal  Washburn  who  had  charge  of  the 
younger  ones.  Each  of  the  teachers  had  a  rattan,  for  it  re- 
quired more  than  patience  on  their  part  to  keep  the  unruly 
element  quiet.  I  think  both  the  sergeant  and  the  corporal 
were  very  forbearing  men.  They  were  excused  from  all 
other  duties  and  paraded  at  muster  only,  receiving  a  mere  pit- 
tance of  extra  pay  from  the  post  fund. 

Every  month  Sergeant  Evans  read  to  us  the  hundred  and 
one  Articles  of  War  from  the  Army  Regulations,  wherein 
punishments  were  prescribed  for  all  imaginable  offenses,  the 
ninety-ninth  article  covering  everything  else  that  might  have 
been  missed  in  the  preceding  articles  so  long  as  the  offense  was 
"to  the  prejudice  of  good  order  and  military  discipline."  I 
noticed  later  that  there  were  more  charges  and  trials  for  "vio- 
lation of  the  ninety-ninth  article  of  war"  than  for  any  other. 
It  seemed  to  fit  nearly  every  case. 

At  eleven  o'clock  the  two  hour  morning  session  of  the  school 
was  over.  The  drummers  who  were  nicknamed  "sheepskin  fid- 
dlers," left  the  school  room  for  an  hour's  practice,  the  fifers, 
called  "straw  blowers,"  by  the  drummers,  had  their  instru- 

10 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

ments  with  them  and  remained  in  the  school  room.  They  got 
out  their  notes,  and  as  soon  as  Sergeant  Hanke  and  his  as- 
sistant entered,  commenced  to  practise,  producing  a  terrific 
racket  with  their  differing  tunes.  I  was  handed  a  "B"  fife, 
the  kind  that  was  used  at  that  time,  and  was  shown  how  to 
hold  it  and  place  my  fingers  over  the  holes  and  my  lips  over 
the  embouchure.  I  found  it  difficult  to  make  a  sound  at  first, 
but  after  a  time  I  managed  to  produce  some  noise.  I  struggled 
with  the  gamut  for  a  week  or  more  and  spent  another  in  try- 
ing to  play  a  bar  or  two  of  music  correctly.  After  that  I  got 
along  faster  and  commenced  to  learn  some  of  the  more  simple 
calls  and  to  understand  the  meaning  of  the  notes  in  my  music 
book.  In  about  two  months  I  had  made  sufficient  progress 
to  take  my  part  in  playing  the  reveille,  retreat  and  tattoo. 
After  that,  I  learned  to  play  marches  and  other  pieces.  In 
the  meantime,  I  had  also  made  progress  in  drill  and  was  con- 
sidered sufficiently  proficient  at  the  end  of  three  months  to 
take  part  in  parades  and  all  other  duties. 

During  the  course  of  my  musical  instruction,  I  found  the 
corporal  instructor,  whose  name  I  do  not  recall,  a  rather  im- 
patient man  very  much  given  to  scolding.  Sergeant  Hanke 
was  more  kindly,  but  he  had  a  habit  of  taking  a  boy's  fife  out 
of  his  hands  and  playing  part  of  the  piece  for  him  to  show 
him  how  it  should  be  done.  As  he  was  an  inveterate  tobacco- 
chewer  this  was  very  disagreeable.  Wiping  the  fife  on  the 
sleeve  of  the  jacket  did  not  remove  the  strong  odor.  In  my 
case  I  used  soap  and  water  as  soon  as  I  had  the  opportunity 
to  do  so. 

I  was  obliged  to  submit  to  the  customary  "hazing,"  inflicted 
on  new  arrivals.  I  had  to  do  various  foolish  stunts  such  as 
innocently  asking  Sergeant  Moore  for  a  pair  of  knapsack 
screws.  He  very  promptly  chased  me  out  of  his  room.  But 
the  worst  was  what  the  boys  named  a  "blanket  court  martial." 
This  was  performed  in  the  quarters,  a  blanket  was  spread 
upon  the  floor,  the  victim  was  brought  into  the  room  blind- 
folded and  placed  standing  upon  the  blanket  by  his  guards.  He 

11 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

was  accused  of  a  number  of  crimes  such  as  stealing  one  of 
the  heavy  guns,  swimming  to  Brooklyn  with  it  and  selling  it 
for  junk,  and  other  ridiculous  things. 

Finally  he  was  asked  by  the  president  of  the  court  if  he  was 
guilty,  and  upon  his  reply  "No!"  the  president  said,  "Then 
what  are  you  standing  there  for?" 

This  was  the  signal  for  jerking  away  the  blanket  from  under 
his  feet,  tumbling  him  to  the  floor.  It  was  both  rough  and 
dangerous  and  I  was  sore  after  it. 

I  also  had  to  have  a  few  fights  with  some  of  the  boys.  These 
usually  took  place  under  the  east  wall  of  the  Battery  and  were 
witnessed  by  a  number  of  spectators.  Such  little  affairs  were 
not  serious ;  the  combatants  usually  had  a  rough  and  tumble 
scrap  and  the  only  damage  I  ever  received  was  a  bloody  nose 
and  a  few  scratches.  Some  of  the  older  boys,  however,  oc- 
casionally had  regular  fist  fights  according  to  rules  and  had 
scouts  out  to  give  warning  at  the  approach  of  any  officer. 
Fighting  was  forbidden  and  the  participants  liable  to  be 
severely  punished.  After  a  time  other  "fresh  fish"  arrived  and 
I  ceased  to  be  a  novelty.  I  was  then  left  at  peace  to  pursue 
the  regular  course  of  events. 

The  greater  part  of  the  fifty  or  more  music  boys  on  the 
island  at  this  time  were  from  New  York  City  like  myself ;  the 
rest  were  from  cities  and  small  towns  in  adjoining  states. 
There  were  half  a  dozen  farmer's  boys,  mostly  from  Con- 
necticut and  the  interior  counties  of  New  York  State.  A  few 
of  the  boys  were  about  my  age,  but  most  of  them  were  from 
fifteen  to  eighteen  or  nineteen  years  old.  None  were  enlisted 
without  the  consent  of  their  parents  or  guardians  whose  in- 
ability to  support  them,  no  doubt,  caused  the  greater  part  of 
them  to  join  the  army. 

Some  of  them,  however,  seemed  to  have  left  good  homes, 
or  at  least  had  prosperous  looking  visitors  who  brought  them 
nice  things  to  eat  or  gave  them  money.  Poorly  dressed  women 
also  appeared,  mothers,  who  took  their  boys  to  some  retired 
spot  and  had  a  cry  over  them.  There  was  a  very  nice,  genteel 

12 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

boy  a  year  or  two  older  than  I,  whose  father  owned  a  hotel 
on  Broadway  near  Bleecker  Street,  in  New  York.  I  won- 
dered why  he  left  home  to  enlist.  He  and  I  became  good 
friends  and  served  in  the  same  regiment  later  on,  but  he  was 
always  reticent  on  that  point.  By  far  the  greater  part  of  the 
boys  were  native  born,  but  largely  of  foreign  parentage,  the 
Irish  predominating. 

With  the  exception  of  a  dozen  or  so  who  were  rather  "hard 
cases"  and  boasted  of  it,  and  who  formed  a  clique  by  them- 
selves, the  boys,  I  always  thought,  would  compare  quite 
favorably  as  regards  morals  and  good  behavior  with  an  equal 
number  of  boys  of  even  age  at  some  private  school.  Discipline 
was  of  course  stricter  with  us  and  punishment  more  severe. 
For  minor  offenses  we  got  a  few  whacks  over  the  shoulders 
with  a  rattan  in  the  hands  of  one  of  the  non-commissioned  of- 
ficers, confinement  to  quarters,  or  deprivation  of  passes  to  the 
city.  The  most  frequent  punishment  of  all  was  to  "walk  the 
ring,"  but  this  was  inflicted  only  by  order  of  the  adjutant,  who 
was  the  officer  in  command  of  the  musicians.  He  could  also 
confine  an  offender  in  a  cell  for  twenty- four  hours  in  the 
guard  house  without  formal  charges. 

The  ring  was  in  front  of  the  guard  house  under  the  observa- 
tion of  the  sentinel  of  Post  No.  1,  who  had  orders  to  keep  the 
culprits  moving.  They  were  required  to  walk  around  in  a  well 
beaten  circular  track  of  about  thirty  feet  in  diameter,  some- 
times two  or  three  at  one  time.  They  had  to  attend  to  their 
duties  and  walk  the  ring  during  recreation  time  in  the  after- 
noon and  from  retreat  to  tattoo  in  the  evening.  This  punish- 
ment might  last  anywhere  from  one  day  to  a  week  or  more  at 
a  stretch.  Graver  offenses  were  tried  by  a  garrison  court  mar- 
tial whose  findings  were  submitted  to  a  higher  authority  for 
revision  or  approval. 

The  punishments  of  a  garrison  court  martial  were  limited  to 
thirty  days'  confinement  in  the  guard  house,  part  of  it,  perhaps, 
solitary  confinement  on  bread  and  water,  or  the  forfeiture  of  a 
month's  pay  and  allowances.  Very  serious  offenses  were  tried 

13 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

before  a  general  court  martial  which  had  power  to  sentence  the 
prisoner  to  almost  any  kind  of  punishment,  including  death,  ac- 
cording to  "Articles  of  War."  Their  proceedings  were  re- 
viewed, however,  by  the  Judge  Advocate  at  the  War  Depart- 
ment in  Washington,  and  some  cases  required  the  decision  of 
the  President.  There  was  also  an  intermediate  court  named  a 
regimental  court  martial  which  had  somewhat  larger  powers 
than  a  garrison  court,  but  no  such  court  convened  at  the  island 
during  my  stay  there,  as  there  was  no  regimental  headquarters, 
all  the  soldiers  belonging  to  what  was  called  the  general  service. 

One  day  at  a  morning  inspection  for  guard  mounting,  Ser- 
geant Hanke  noticed  the  end  of  a  pipe  stem  protruding  between 
the  buttons  of  my  jacket.  I  had  carelessly  thrust  it  into  the  in- 
side breast  pocket  when  the  call  to  "fall  in"  sounded.  He  pulled 
it  out  and  confiscated  the  pipe,  remarking,  "You  will  get  a 
month  on  the  ring  for  this."  I  was  greatly  alarmed  at  this 
threat  of  so  severe  a  punishment  and  fully  expected  to  receive 
orders  to  report  to  the  sergeant  of  the  guard  after  school  that 
afternoon  to  be  placed  on  the  ring  by  him  and  commence  my 
endless  march.  When  the  order  was  not  given  I  thought  sure 
it  would  some  the  next  day,  but  it  did  not.  It  was  a  week  be- 
fore I  felt  safe  and  concluded  that  the  sergeant  had  not  re- 
ported me.  Only  on  one  occasion  did  I  receive  any  punish- 
ment. I  once  threw  a  basin  full  of  dirty  water  out  of  a  win- 
dow and  inadvertently  dashed  it  over  Sergeant  Moore,  who  was 
passing.  He  saw  me  and  immediately  got  his  rattan  and  gave 
me  a  good  whipping. 

Governor's  Island  in  1854  presented  a  very  different  appear- 
ance from  what  it  does  in  1914.  It  was  much  smaller.  Its 
diameter  was  less  than  half  a  mile  and  there  were  but  few 
buildings  on  it.  More  than  a  hundred  acres  have  been  added 
to  it  by  filling  in  a  part  of  the  bay  and  a  sea  wall  has  been 
built  around  the  entire  island.  Many  buildings  have  been 
erected;  trees,  shrubbery  and  flowers  have  been  planted  and 
walks  laid  out ;  sewers  have  been  put  in ;  water,  gas  and  elec- 
tricity provided  and  the  island  generally  improved  and  beauti- 
fied.  14 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Many  of  the  venerable  old  buildings  still  remain,  however, 
as  they  existed  during  my  time.  Castle  Williams,  at  the  south- 
west angle  of  the  island,  is  a  circular  structure,  pierced  with 
three  tiers  of  embrasures.  At  its  portal  can  still  be  read  the  in- 
scription cut  in  the  stone,  "Commenced  1807,  finished  1811." 
It  is  built  of  brown  stone,  backed  up  with  brick.  The  granite 
parapet  on  top  was  erected  shortly  after  Civil  War,  replacing 
one  of  brown  stone.  As  a  work  of  defense  it  has  long  out- 
lived its  usefulness,  but  in  1854  there  were  still  guns  mounted 
in  the  first  tier  of  casemates  which  were  considered  formidable, 
and  others  were  mounted  en  barbette  on  the  parapet.  These 
guns  were  used  sometimes  in  firing  a  salute  to  foreign  war- 
ships in  the  harbor. 

Northward  from  Castle  Williams,  near  the  northwest  angle 
of  the  island,  was  the  ordnance  building,  then  came  the  guard 
house  with  its  prison  cells  in  the  basement  and  the  adjutant's 
office  above  them.  The  quartermasters'  and  commissary  stores, 
the  commanding  officer's  house  and  a  few  other  houses  for  the 
married  officers  of  the  higher  grade  were  all  on  the  north  side 
of  the  island.  Next  came  the  hospital  on  the  east  and  near  it, 
but  somewhat  to  the  west,  a  row  of  small  two-story  buildings 
partly  used  as  the  sutler's  store  and  as  quarters  for  some  mar- 
ried soldiers  and  their  families.  At  the  southeast  corner  of  the 
island  was  the  South  Battery,  mounting  a  few  guns.  Some  dis- 
tance to  the  west  was  the  chapel  and  next  to  it  the  graveyard, 
in  which  some  officers  and  a  number  of  soldiers  were  buried, 
most  of  whom  had  died  of  cholera  and  yellow  fever  which  had 
often  visited  the  island.  Beyond  the  graveyard  was  the  post 
garden,  several  acres  in  extent,  in  which  all  kinds  of  vegetables 
were  raised.  West  of  the  garden  was  the  parade  ground,  ex- 
tending to  the  garrison,  and  from  the  commanding  officers' 
house  sloping  gently  to  the  shore  line  on  the  south. 

Fort  Jay,  or  Fort  Columbus,  as  it  was  then  called,  was  gener- 
ally known  as  the  "garrison."  It  is  situated  on  the  westerly 
part  of  the  island  on  raised  ground — a  square-built,  old  style 
fortress  with  a  dry  moat,  portcullis,  draw  bridge,  and  ramparts. 

15 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Guns  are  mounted  en  barbette  on  three  of  its  sides.  An  artis- 
tic and  elaborate  piece  of  sculpture  over  the  portal,  represent- 
ing the  various  arms  of  the  service,  cut  in  brown  stone,  is  still 
in  a  fair  state  of  preservation.  Passing  through  the  deep  sally- 
port, the  interior  is  found  to  be  quite  roomy,  having  a  sodded 
parade  ground  with  quarters  surrounding  it  on  four  sides.  The 
buildings  in  the  south  were  used  as  quarters  for  the  unmarried 
officers.  On  the  east  lived  recruits,  and  on  the  west  were  the 
quarters  of  a  company  of  soldiers,  about  seventy-five  strong, 
who  were  officially  called  the  Permanent  Party.  On  the  north 
was  the  post  band  on  one  side  of  the  sallyport  and  the  non- 
commissioned staff  and  some  buglers  on  the  other.  There  was 
a  smaller  gate  on  the  south  leading  into  the  moat  and  a  sunken 
way  leading  from  there  to  the  entrance  to  Castle  Williams. 

All  of  the  buildings  which  I  have  described  still  exist  except 
a  few  of  the  officers'  cottages  on  the  north  side  of  the  island, 
the  sutler's  row  and  the  chapel  which  was  destroyed  by  fire 
and  lately  replaced  on  another  site  by  a  much  larger  and  finer 
building  of  cut  stone,  a  gift  of  Trinity  Church  of  New  York. 
The  post-garden  has  disappeared  and  so  has  the  graveyard  with 
its  few  monuments  and  many  headstones.  The  remains  were 
disinterred  and  reburied  elsewhere,  and  the  site  is  now  covered 
with  buildings. 

Governor's  Island  was  the  principal  recruiting  depot  in  the 
east,  and  in  1854  Major  John  T.  Sprague  of  the  Eighth  U.  S. 
Infantry  was  in  command.  He  was  a  West  Point  graduate, 
who  had  joined  the  army  in  1837  and  had  been  breveted  as  a 
Major  during  the  Mexican  War.  Major  Sprague  was  relieved 
and  ordered  elsewhere  before  my  departure  from  the  island. 
He  was  succeeded  by  Captain  Mansfield  Lovell,  a  dashing  ar- 
tillery officer,  who  later  joined  the  confederate  army  and  had 
something  to  do  with  the  surrender  of  New  Orleans.  A  cap- 
tain or  two,  an  ordnance  officer  and  six  or  eight  lieutenants 
from  different  branches  of  the  service,  were  all  detailed  on  de- 
tached service  away  from  their  regiments  to  serve  here  as  in- 
structors of  recruits. 

16 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

A  very  fine  military  band  was  connected  with  this  post  un- 
der the  leadership  of  Bandmaster  Bloomfield,  who  was  a  cele- 
brated musician.  There  were  two  drummers  in  this  band, 
brothers,  named  Jack  and  Pete  Vigo,  who  were  considered  to 
be  the  best  in  the  army.  Later  on  both  served  in  the  band  of 
the  regiment  which  I  joined,  Pete  Vigo,  in  the  meantime,  hav- 
ing married  Bandmaster  Bloomfield's  daughter,  who  accom- 
panied him  to  the  frontiers. 

The  band  played  at  guard  mounting  and  dress  parade,  mus- 
ters and  general  inspections.  It  also  gave  concerts  on  certain 
summer  days  in  front  of  the  commanding  officers'  quarters. 
Bandsmen  had  permission  occasionally  to  play  in  New  York 
City,  which  was  lucrative  for  them.  Indeed  they  were  very 
much  petted  and  pampered  and  enjoyed  many  privileges.  They 
received  extra  pay  and  had  especial  fine  uniforms  and  instru- 
ments, all  of  which  had  to  be  paid  for  out  of  the  post  fund. 

The  Permanent  Party,  also  called  Company  "A,"  was  a  com- 
pany of  soldiers  selected  from  the  recruits  for  stature,  phys- 
ique and  soldierly  bearing.  They  were  mostly  tall  men  and,  as 
I  imagine,  must  have  borne  some  resemblance  to  the  grena- 
diers of  Frederick  the  Great.  They  looked  well  on  parade  in 
their  striking  uniforms — dark  blue  coats  with  facings  and  sky- 
blue  trousers,  white  cross  and  waist  belts,  epaulettes  and  black 
shakos  with  blue  pompons  and  brass  chin  straps.  Occasionally 
some  were  sent  away  to  serve  with  a  regiment  at  their  own  re- 
quest or  as  a  punishment.  The  Permanent  Party  did  all  of  the 
guard  duty  that  was  required  on  the  island,  and  guarded  the 
prisoners  who  did  the  scavenging. 

Other  troops  on  the  island  were  the  recruits,  generally  sev- 
eral hundred  of  them,  who  were  quartered  in  the  garrison  and 
in  the  upper  casemates  of  Castle  Williams.  From  time  to  time 
they  were  sent  away  in  detachments  of  a  hundred  or  more, 
generally  accompanied  by  some  of  the  drummers  and  fifers,  to 
vacancies  in  regiments  serving  throughout  the  country.  Offi- 
cers were  detailed  to  accompany  these  detachments  to  their 
destinations.  The  non-commissioned  officers  were  generally 

17 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

selected  from  the  most  worthy  and  efficient  of  the  recruits  and 
promoted  to  lance  sergeants  and  lance  corporals,  a  rank  with 
authority  but  without  extra  pay.  Often  a  few  re-enlisted  old 
soldiers,  rejoining  regiments  on  the  frontiers,  went  with  these 
parties  and  helped  to  take  charge  of  them. 

The  recruits  were  unarmed.  Arms  were  furnished  when 
they  joined  their  regiments,  unless  it  became  necessary  to  march 
through  a  part  of  the  Indian  country  to  reach  their  destination. 
In  that  case  they  were  armed  and  accompanied  by  an  escort  of 
experienced  soldiers.  These  departures  from  the  island  were 
always  occasions  of  considerable  military  ceremony.  The  re- 
cruits were  escorted  from  the  garrison  to  the  wharf  by  the 
post  band  and  the  Permanent  Party.  And  when  they  had  em- 
barked on  the  steamboat  and  the  lines  were  cast  off,  the  band 
would  play,  "The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me,"  amid  the  parting 
cheers  of  the  spectators. 

The  final  complement  that  made  up  the  garrison  of  Gover- 
nors Island  were  the  music  boys,  designated  as  Company  "B," 
and  stationed  in  the  small  South  Battery.  We  were  under  spe- 
cial command  of  the  Post- Adjutant,  but  never  saw  him  there 
except  on  muster  days.  He  troubled  himself  very  little  about 
us,  leaving  the  care  and  management  of  the  fifty  or  sixty  boys 
to  the  two  sergeants  in  charge.  Sergeant  Hanke,  of  whom  I 
have  spoken  before,  was  a  Dane  who  had  been  for  many  years 
in  the  United  States  service.  He  was  of  low  stature,  very  cor- 
pulent, with  a  large  round  florid  face,  and  was  bald,  except  for 
a  fringe  of  gray  hair  below  the  top  of  his  ears.  He  had  sharp 
twinkling  eyes  and  a  strong  voice.  He  was  married  but  had  no 
children  and  lived  in  a  couple  of  small  rooms  on  the  second 
floor  of  the  quarters.  His  Irish  wife  was  his  counterpart  in 
stature  and  corpulency.  She  generally  wore  a  white  cap  and  a 
red  skirt.  That  she  had  a  fine  brogue  we  knew  from  overhear- 
ing her  disputes  with  the  sergeant.  She  had  a  loud  voice  and 
was  more  than  a  match  for  the  sergeant,  whose  English  failed 
him  when  he  became  excited.  Sergeant  Hanke,  while  a  strict 
disciplinarian,  was  not  an  unkindly  man.  He  often  listened 

18 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

patiently  to  our  complaints  and  forgave  us  for  many  minor 
transgressions  when  we  were  brought  before  him. 

Sergeant  Moore  was  an  Irishman  and  married.  He  kept 
house  with  his  wife  and  several  children  in  some  rooms  on  the 
lower  floor  of  our  quarters.  He  also  had  served  a  long  time  in 
the  army.  He  was  a  tall  thin  man  with  iron  gray  hair,  quick 
tempered  and  not  so  well  liked  by  the  boys  as  Sergeant  Hanke. 
Both  of  these  men  remained  in  the  service  for  more  than  sixty 
years  and  were  finally  retired  and  pensioned  by  the  govern- 
ment. Sergeant  Moore  lived  to  be  ninety-seven  years  old  and 
Hanke  nearly  as  long. 

Corporal  Butler,  the  assistant  instructor,  was  a  young  man 
of  medium  size,  with  a  fiery  temper  and  a  profusion  of  very 
red  hair  and  mustache,  the  greasing,  waxing  and  combing  of 
which  consumed  much  of  his  spare  time.  The  other  corporal, 
who  was  assistant  fife  instructor,  and  whose  name,  unless  mem- 
ory fails  me,  was  Pfaefle,  was  a  tall  and  very  good  looking 
young  German  of  a  more  pleasant  disposition.  He  spent  much 
time  in  "primping"  himself  and  the  boys  called  him  "the  dude." 
I  never  learned  what  became  of  him  in  after  years,  but  I  did 
learn  that  Corporal  Butler  remained  in  the  service  all  his  life 
and  died  only  recently  at  a  military  post  at  Sackett's  Harbor, 
N.  Y.,  at  an  advanced  age.  Sergeant  Evans  and  Corporal 
Washburn,  our  school  teachers,  were  both  very  fair  men  with 
no  peculiarities.  Later  on  I  believe  they  became  citizen  clerks 
in  the  War  Department  at  Washington. 

With  a  couple  of  the  older  boys  promoted  to  lance  corporals, 
who  had  charge  of  some  rooms,  this  completed  the  list  of  non- 
commissioned officers  who  had  the  immediate  charge  of  the 
boys  and  were  responsible  to  the  post  adjutant,  who  cared  very 
little  how  things  went. 

It  took  but  a  short  time  for  me  to  realize  that  the  quan- 
tity of  food  we  received  was  very  scanty  for  growing  boys. 
While  we  were  not  actually  starved,  we  did  not  get  enough  to 
eat  and  often  felt  hungry.  We  had  a  limited  amount  of  credit 
at  the  sutler's  store,  which  was  deducted  from  our  pay.  Much 

19 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

of  this  we  consumed  in  buying  crackers  and  cheese  or  an  occa- 
sional piece  of  pie  or  cake  to  eke  out  our  scanty  food,  the  same- 
ness of  which  often  palled  on  us.  In  the  summer  months  we 
were  given  a  few  vegetables  once  or  twice  a  week  from  the 
post  garden  after  the  officers  and  their  families  had  first  re- 
ceived all  they  wanted.  The  poor  recruits  never  got  any,  al- 
though they  contributed  their  pro-rata  share  to  the  post  fund, 
while  the  officers  were  not  obliged  to  contribute  anything. 

Had  we  received  the  entire  ration  allowed  us,  it  would  have 
been  sufficient  and  we  could  not  have  complained  as  to  quan- 
tity. The  soldier's  daily  ration  at  this  time  consisted  of  six- 
teen ounces  of  salt  or  fresh  beef  or  twelve  ounces  of  pork  or 
bacon,  eighteen  ounces  of  soft  bread  or  flour,  or  one  pound  of 
hard  bread  and  the  "small  rations,"  as  they  were  called,  such 
as  coffee,  sugar,  beans,  peas,  rice,  salt,  vinegar,  dessicated  vege- 
tables, soap  and  candles,  which  were  sufficient,  when  used  col- 
lectively, for  an  entire  company.  The  flour  ration  of  eighteen 
ounces,  when  baked  into  bread,  will  produce  about  one-third 
more  in  weight  of  bread.  Hence  there  was  a  saving  of  about 
one-third  on  flour  which  was  sold  to  increase  the  post  fund. 
But  we  boys  never  received  eighteen  ounces  of  bread  per  day, 
and  all  of  our  other  rations  were  also  reduced. 

A  post  fund,  according  to  army  regulations,  was  created  by 
a  tax  of  ten  cents  per  month  to  be  paid  by  the  sutler  for  every 
officer  or  soldier  stationed  there,  also  from  the  savings  on  the 
flour  ration  between  eighteen  ounces  of  flour  and  eighteen 
ounces  of  bread  at  the  post  bakery.  No  saving  is  supposed  to 
be  made  on  any  other  portion  of  the  soldier's  ration.  The  man- 
agement of  the  fund  was  generally  in  the  hands  of  three  offi- 
cers, one  of  whom  acted  as  treasurer;  they  were  called  Post 
Council  of  Administration  and  had  power  to  fix  a  tariff  of 
prices  for  the  sutler,  laundresses,  tailor,  shoemaker,  etc.,  and 
the  expenditure  of  the  fund  for  other  purposes  approved  by 
the  commanding  officer. 

At  Governor's  Island  one  of  the  largest  expenses  was  the 
band  whose  members  were  paid  extra  (according  to  their  abil- 

20 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

ity)  over  and  above  their  grade  of  soldier's  pay.  Their  instru- 
ments, which  the  Government  did  not  furnish,  had  to  be  pur- 
chased, as  well  as  music  and  a  showy  uniform.  Other  ex- 
penses were  the  post  bakery,  the  post  garden  and  school  for 
the  boys.  From  all  this  the  officers  received  the  greater  bene- 
fit and  yet  they  were  not  required  by  army  regulations  to  con- 
tribute to  the  fund. 

When  spring  came,  in  pleasant  weather  I  often  sat  on  the 
west  shore  of  the  island,  which  faced  Battery  Park  in  New 
York,  and  watched  the  ferry  boats  and  excursion  steamers  pass 
close  by,  crowded  with  people  who  were  bent  on  enjoying 
themselves.  This  made  me  feel  melancholy  and  homesick. 
Sometimes,  when  alone,  tears  would  come  to  my  eyes  in  spite 
of  my  efforts  to  restrain  them.  When  the  summer  came,  I  felt 
less  lonely  and  forsaken.  We  played  ball  and  other  games  dur- 
ing our  leisure  hours  and  went  in  swimming  very  often  on  the 
south  shore  of  the  island  where  there  was  a  good  gravelly 
beach,  interspersed  with  mossy  rocks. 

Early  in  June  we  received  two  months'  pay.  A  private  sol- 
dier's pay  at  this  time  was  but  seven  dollars  per  month,  but 
was  raised  by  act  of  Congress  to  eleven  dollars  about  six 
months  after  I  entered  the  service.  The  officers'  pay  was  raised 
also  all  along  the  line.  The  musician's  pay  was  always  one  dol- 
lar more  per  month  than  that  of  a  private,  and  I  was,  therefore, 
entitled  to  sixteen  dollars  for  my  two  months'  service;  but 
after  the  sutler's,  tailor's,  and  laundresses'  bills  were  deducted, 
I  had  but  a  few  dollars  left. 

Immediately  after  being  paid  the  soldiers  and  some  of  the 
boys  started  gambling  with  cards  and  dice  in  secluded  places 
all  over  the  island,  under  trees,  behind  buildings  and  even  in 
the  grave  yard.  I  was  pressingly  invited  to  join  in  some  of  the 
games  but  I  refused  as  I  had  no  inclination  for  playing.  Gam- 
bling was  forbidden  and  the  gamblers  punished  if  caught.  I 
wished  to  get  a  pass  to  visit  New  York  and  did  not  care  to  take 
any  chances.  I  applied  for  a  pass  and  got  permission  to  be 

21 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

absent  from  nine  o'clock  on  a  Saturday  morning  to  Retreat  at 
sundown  on  Sunday. 

I  put  on  my  best  uniform,  polished  my  shoes  and  buttons, 
exhibited  my  pass  to  the  guard  on  the  dock  and  was  rowed 
over  to  the  Battery  in  New  York,  whence  I  had  departed  two 
and  a  half  months  before.  I  walked  rapidly  through  Battery 
Park  and  up  Broadway  towards  my  home.  I  was  anxious  to 
see  my  mother  from  whom  I  had  only  heard  by  letter  since  my 
departure.  I  had  not  gone  far  when  I  was  jeered  at  by  boys 
and  larger  hoodlums  and  saluted  with  such  questions  as  "Soger 
will  ye  work?"  and  their  replies  of  "No!  First  I'd  sell  me 
shirt."  I  flushed  with  anger  but  could  do  nothing  except  to 
hasten  my  steps  and  get  away  from  my  tormentors,  only  to 
encounter  others  on  my  way  home.  Even  respectable  people 
looked  me  over  as  though  I  was  a  freak  or  a  curiosity  of  some 
kind. 

A  soldier  at  that  period  was  but  little  respected  by  civilians  in 
the  east.  Only  the  people  on  the  Western  frontiers  appreciated 
him  and  understood  how  much  he  did  toward  making  the  new 
country  a  safe  place  for  them  to  acquire  homes  and  develop 
the  land.  It  required  the  lesson  of  the  Civil  War  to  teach  the 
east  the  value  of  soldiers  and  sailors.  The  soldier  particularly 
was  looked  upon  as  an  individual  too  lazy  to  work  for  a  living. 
He  had  not  been  much  in  evidence  since  the  Mexican  War.  The 
entire  U.  S.  Army  contained  less  than  twelve  thousand  men 
scattered  over  a  large  territory. 

When  my  pass  expired  I  caught  the  boat  for  Governor's 
Island,  and  reported  for  duty  on  time.  I  did  not  receive  an- 
other leave  of  absence  for  about  three  months.  The  cholera 
broke  out  in  New  York  and  Brooklyn  and  soon  made  its  ap- 
pearance on  Governor's  Island,  where  it  had  been  a  frequent 
visitor  as  well  as  the  yellow  fever.  Passes  were  suspended  ex» 
cept  in  urgent  cases,  and  communication  with  the  city  restrict- 
ed as  much  as  possible.  A  few  of  the  boys  were  attacked  but 
recovered.  Some  of  the  Permanent  Party  died  of  it,  but  the 
recruits  suffered  most.  A  considerable  number  of  them  died 

22 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

and  were  buried  in  the  island  grave  yard.  The  funeral  march 
was  often  heard  and  the  report  from  the  corporal's  firing  squad 
of  eight,  who  fired  three  rounds  over  the  grave,  was  the  last 
farewell  to  the  poor  soldier,  as  no  religious  services  were  held. 

I  had  formed  a  few  friendships  among  the  soldiers  of  the 
Permanent  Party,  particularly  with  a  man  named  Lovell,  a 
very  tall,  fine-looking  soldier  who  later  on  became  the  drum- 
major  of  my  regiment.  Another  of  my  friends  was  a  man 
named  Fisher,  an  estimable  soldier.  One  evening  Fisher  sent 
for  me  from  the  hospital  where  he  was  sick  with  the  cholera. 
I  found  the  building  crowded  with  cholera  patients  and  others. 
Fisher  was  suffering  intensely  but  was  conscious.  He  ex- 
pressed a  wish,  in  the  presence  of  the  nurses,  that  in  case  of 
his  death  his  trunk,  keepsakes  and  money  were  to  be  given  to 
me.  I  left  him  after  a  while  and  next  morning  learned  that  he 
had  died  during  the  night. 

I  got  permission  to  attend  his  funeral,  and  the  next  day  I 
went  to  the  hospital  to  claim  my  inheritance,  but  the  hospital 
steward,  named  Campbell,  chased  me  away  and  for  a  long  time 
I  blamed  him  unjustly  for  depriving  me  of  the  little  legacy,  for 
his  own  benefit,  as  I  supposed.  He  was  an  ill  tempered  man 
not  liked  by  the  boys.  But  later  on  I  learned  that  he  was  with- 
in his  rights  in  not  allowing  me  to  take  anything.  There  is  a 
great  deal  of  military  red  tape  in  disposing  of  a  soldier's  ef- 
fects and  I  dropped  the  matter.  Steward  Campbell  was  shortly 
after  relieved  by  David  Robinson,  a  kindly  man,  who  at  the 
present  time  is  still  on  the  island,  retired  and  living  in  a  cottage 
there. 

The  island,  even  when  free  from  epidemics,  was  not  a  healthy 
place.  There  were  no  sewers,  the  water  was  supplied  from  cis- 
terns and  a  few  wells.  There  was  no  gas  and  on  dark  nights 
lanterns  were  carried.  First  sergeants  of  companies  called  the 
roll  at  tattoo  by  their- aid.  As  the  island  had  no  sea  wall  and 
was  directly  in  line  of  the  tide  currents  of  the  East  River, 
which  it  divided  into  two  parts,  much  of  the  floating  filth  from 
the  city  was  deposited  on  its  shore.  Dead  cats,  dogs  and  other 

23 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

small  animals  were  washed  on  to  the  beach  daily.  Sometimes 
a  horse  and,  on  a  few  occasions,  a  human  body.  Fruit  of  all 
kinds,  but  all  more  or  less  decayed,  great  quantities  of  wood, 
all  sorts  of  boxes  and  cases,  in  fact  anything  that  could  float, 
seemed  to  be  cast  upon  the  island's  shore.  A  squad  of  prison- 
ers under  guard  were  busy  all  day  long  in  "beach  combing," 
gathering  up  this  filth  and  burning  it. 

One  day,  when  passing  along  the  south  shore,  I  noticed  a 
curious  looking  object  partly  covered  by  rubbish.  It  was  high 
and  dry  up  on  the  beach,  where  it  must  have  lain  for  some  days 
exposed  to  the  hoj:  sun.  It  was  very  brown  and  very  small,  and 
I  thought  it  was  a  dead  monkey  or  perhaps  a  mummy  of  some 
kind.  I  called  the  attention  of  the  prisoners'  guard,  who  were 
close  by,  to  the  object.  They  uncovered  it  and  declared  it  to 
be  a  new  born  infant.  One  of  the  prisoners  carried  it  on  a 
shovel  to  the  grave  yard,  only  a  few  steps  away,  where  he  dug 
a  shallow  hole  in  a  corner  of  the  fence  and  buried  it. 

Some  parts  of  the  shore  were  sandy,  and  at  low  tide  I  often 
saw  some  of  the  hungry  recruits  gathering  soft  clams  and  eat- 
ing them  after  boiling  them  in  a  rusty  can,  picked  up  along  the 
shore.  They  also  ate  much  of  the  fruit  cast  up  by  the  tide.  All 
this  no  doubt  contributed  to  the  greater  mortality  among  them 
during  the  prevalence  of  the  cholera.  Very  few  boys,  I  think, 
ever  touched  any  of  the  fruit.  We  were  strictly  cautioned 
against  it. 

Changes  made  by  boys  being  sent  away  to  join  regiments 
made  it  possible  for  me  to  move  to  a  room  on  the  second  floor 
which  was  more  cheerful  and  to  have  a  more  congenial  bunkie, 
whose  name  was  William  J.  Milligan.  He  was  a  New  York 
boy,  whose  mother  kept  a  millinery  store  on  upper  Broadway. 
We  became  fast  friends  and  remained  so  as  long  as  he  lived. 
We  were  separated  when  he  was  sent  to  join  the  Sixth  U.  S. 
Infantry,  as  a  fifer,  and  I  did  not  meet  him  again  until  we  both 
served  in  the  same  brigade  in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  during 
the  Civil  War. 

One  day  orders  were  given  to  prepare  for  a  grand  inspection 

24 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

of  all  the  soldiers  on  the  island  by  General  Winfield  Scott,  who 
was  the  Commander-in- Chief  of  the  army.  We  were  busy  for 
some  days  cleaning  up  for  the  great  inspection.  Finally  the 
day  arrived,  so  did  the  general  in  his  cocked  hat,  a  gorgeous 
uniform  and  splendid  sword.  He  was  very  tall,  large  and  dig- 
nified. Despite  his  age  he  was  erect  and  soldierly.  He  was  ac- 
companied by  some  of  the  officers  of  his  staff,  also  in  full  unic 
form.  As  he  debarked,  a  salute  of  thirteen  guns  thundered 
from  Castle  Williams.  All  the  soldiers  on  the  island,  not  on 
other  duty,  were  drawn  up  on  the  parade  ground  and  the  band 
played  "Hail  to  the  Chief."  For  occasions  of  this  sort  we  were 
required  to  appear  fully  equipped  and  with  knapsacks  packed. 

There  was  always  a  rivalry  among  us  as  to  who  could  pack 
his  kit  the  neatest  and  show  the  fewest  creases  in  the  overcoat 
when  rolled  up  and  strapped  on  top  of  the  knapsack.  In  this 
particular  we  never  seemed  to  be  able  to  equal  the  Permanent 
Party,  whose  overcoats  were  faultlessly  rolled.  The  usual 
formula  of  a  general  inspection  was  carried  through,  as  pre- 
scribed in  the  regulations,  ending  up  with  opening  ranks,  un- 
slinging  and  opening  knapsacks  and  displaying  our  kits.  The 
General  and  his  aides-de-camp,  accompanied  by  the  command- 
ing officer  and  the  adjutant,  first  inspected  the  band,  then 
passed  through  the  boys'  opened  ranks  without  any  comments 
and  on  through  the  ranks  of  the  Permanent  Party,  each  of 
whom  stood  like  a  statue  at  the  position  "order  arms."  An  of- 
ficer of  the  General's  staff,  remarking  the  immaculate  rolling 
of  many  of  the  overcoats,  tapped  one  of  them  with  the  scab- 
bard of  his  sword.  It  emitted  a  hollow  sound.  He  asked  the 
soldier  what  it  was,  and  the  man  explained  that  it  was  a  dummy 
made  out  of  a  piece  of  stove  pipe  covered  with  blue  cloth.  The 
old  General  noticed  the  incident  but  merely  smiled  as  did  some 
of  the  other  officers.  However,  it  proved  to  be  the  end  of  the 
dummy  overcoats  on  parade. 

One  summer's  day  several  French  ships  of  war  arrived  in 
the  harbor,  opposite  Governor's  Island.  They  fired  a  national 
salute  which  it  was  necessary  to  reply  to,  gun  for  gun,  accord- 

25 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

ing  to  custom.  Unfortunately  at  that  particular  time  there  were 
no  artillery  soldiers  on  the  island,  but  a  sergeant  of  the  Perma- 
nent Party  was  found  who  understood  how  to  load  and  dis- 
charge guns.  He  was  furnished  with  a  detail  of  infantry  men 
to  assist  him.  Salutes  were  always  fired  from  the  first  or 
ground  tier  of  guns  at  Castle  Williams,  about  a  dozen  in  num- 
ber. When  not  in  use  the  embrasures  for  these  guns  were 
closed  with  wooden  shutters  which  could  be  removed  and  taken 
inside  while  firing. 

The  Sergeant  ordered  the  shutters  to  be  detached  from  their 
fastenings  and  laid  down  flat  in  the  openings.  He  then  com- 
menced firing,  and  at  every  discharge  we  saw  the  shutters  be- 
ing blown  to  splinters  into  the  harbor,  fortunately  without  dam- 
age to  any  one.  When  all  the  guns  in  the  tier  had  been  dis- 
charged the  Sergeant  and  his  inexperienced  crew  had  to  go 
back  to  reload  and  fire  them  over  again.  This  caused  a  long 
gap  in  the  completion  of  the  salute,  which  should  have  been 
fired  continuously,  and  no  doubt  astonished  our  French  visitors. 

A  day  or  two  later  on  a  Saturday  afternoon  the  French  ad- 
miral, with  some  of  his  officers,  accompanied  by  the  post  adju- 
tant, came  on  an  informal  visit  to  the  island.  I  was  on  the 
scrubbing  squad  that  day  when  they  passed  through  the  sally- 
port of  the  South  Battery,  unannounced.  I  was  the  first  boy 
whom  they  encountered,  hatless,  barefooted,  in  shirt  sleeves, 
with  my  trousers  rolled  up  to  the  knees  and  a  broom  in  my 
hands.  I  was  startled,  but  stood  to  attention  and  came  to  a 
salute,  which  was  returned  by  the  admiral.  My  few  compan- 
ions did  the  same.  Most  of  the  boys  were  out  fishing,  swim- 
ming and  playing  games.  The  distinguished  party  remained 
but  a  few  minutes  and  did  not  enter  the  quarters.  I  think  they 
were  not  favorably  impressed  by  our  sloppy  appearance. 

Sometimes  recruits  deserted  the  island  by  arranging  to  have 
a  row  boat  appear  on  the  shores  at  night  or  by  swimming  across 
the  Buttermilk  Channel  to  Brooklyn  in  the  night  time  when  the 
tide  was  right.  If  recaptured  they  were  tried  by  a  general 
court  martial  and  sentenced  to  severe  punishments.  There 

26 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

were  few  desertions  among  the  boys ;  but  two  of  them  who 
failed  to  return  from  leave  of  absence  were  caught  after  a 
time.  They  were  tried  and  sentenced  to  receive  twenty-five 
strokes  with  a  rattan  well  applied  to  their  "bare  buttocks,"  so 
the  sentence  read,  and  to  be  confined  in  the  guard  house  at  hard 
labor  for  two  months,  also  forfeit  their  pay  for  the  same  period. 

We  were  turned  out  and  formed  in  ranks  on  a  spot  near  the 
graveyard  to  witness  the  punishment  of  the  poor  fellows. 
They  were  marched  to  the  place  under  guard.  The  Adjutant 
read  the  sentence  of  the  court  martial.  Then  one  of  the  boys 
was  laid  face  down  on  a  long  bench  and  held  by  a  member  of 
the  guard  at  his  head  and  another  at  his  feet.  His  clothes 
were  removed  sufficiently  to  expose  his  buttocks,  and  at  the 
adjutant's  command,  a  corporal  commenced  to  apply  the  rat- 
tan, which  left  a  red  mark  at  every  stroke  and  made  the  boy 
squirm  and  groan  and  finally  cry  out  with  pain  before  the  ad- 
jutant cried  "Halt"  at  the  twenty-fifth  blow.  While  the 
blows  were  not  inflicted  with  anything  like  full  force,  yet  they 
were  cruel  enough  if  only  by  their  number. 

The  unfortunate  second  victim  was  obliged  to  witness  his 
comrade's  punishment  and  then  endure  the  same  himself.  Both 
of  the  boys  were  about  seventeen  years  of  age  and  served  out 
their  enlistment.  One  of  them  I  met  during  the  Civil  War  as 
a  lieutenant  of  a  volunteer  regiment.  The  trembling  and  sob- 
bing boys  were  reconducted  to  the  guard  house,  and  we 
marched  back  to  quarters  after  this  distressing  scene. 

The  summer  passed  away,  the  cholera,  both  in  the  city  and 
on  the  island,  was  almost  extinct.  Leave  of  absence  was  again 
granted  and  I  went  to  the  city  a  few  times  during  the  fall  and 
early  winter.  One  morning  I  felt  ill  and  reported  at  "doctor's 
call."  I  was  taken  before  the  surgeon,  who  examined  me  and 
ordered  me  to  bed  in  the  hospital,  thinking,  no  doubt,  that  I 
was  about  to  have  an  attack  of  fever.  I  did  not  expect  this  and 
hoped  that  I  would  simply  be  marked  "sick  in  quarters"  and 
excused  from  duty.  I  was  put  to  bed  in  a  ward  that  contained 
about  eight  beds  occupied  by  soldiers  with  all  sorts  of  ailments, 

27 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

some  of  them  very  disagreeable.  Some  of  the  boys  who  had 
been  in  the  hospital  had  told  me  that  tea  and  toast  was  served 
there  to  the  sick.  I  hankered  for  some  of  it,  as  I  had  not  tasted 
any  for  a  long  time.  I  got  it  twice  a  day  and  a  little  thin  gruel, 
but  nothing  else.  On  the  third  day,  I  begged  to  be  let  go.  I  was 
disgusted  with  the  hospital  and  its  inmates.  As  no  serious  com- 
plications had  developed,  I  was  sent  back  to  quarters  and  ex- 
cused from  duty  for  a  few  days. 

As  the  winter  approached  we  were  obliged  to  give  up  many 
of  our  little  outdoor  diversions  and  confine  ourselves  more  to 
our  crowded  quarters.  As  there  was  no  place  indoors  for 
exercise  or  amusement,  our  condition  became  more  melan- 
choly and  dejected.  Our  clothing  we  found  insufficient  to 
keep  us  warm.  Many  of  us  bought  woolen  knit  jackets,  which 
we  wore  instead  of  a  vest  and  which  gave  us  some  protection 
against  the  fierce  cold  winds  that  blew  across  the  island  and 
chilled  us  to  the  marrow  when  we  were  on  parade.  When  we 
began  to  have  severe  frosts,  the  bandsmen  did  not  appear  at 
guard  mounting  on  the  plea  that  their  instruments  would 
freeze.  The  fifes  and  drums  furnished  the  only  music.  Often 
our  fingers  were  so  numb  with  the  cold  that  we  could  hardly 
play  a  note.  The  drummers  could  manage  to  beat  a  march 
with  gloves  on  their  hands  and  suffered  less. 

One  cold  night  late  in  November  there  was  an  alarm  of  fire 
which  proved  to  .be  in  the  sutler's  row  near  the  hospital.  It 
broke  out  in  several  places  at  once.  There  was  some  excite- 
ment in  getting  out  the  soldiers'  wives  and  children  who  lived 
there,  but  none  were  injured.  There  were  no  fire  extinguish- 
ing appliances  on  the  island,  save  fire  buckets.  The  soldiers 
formed  lines  to  the  nearest  pump  and  cistern  and  passed  the 
buckets  along.  But  they  could  make  no  impression  on  the  fire, 
and  the  row  was  a  mass  of  ruins  in  little  more  than  an  hour. 
Long  before  a  ferry  boat  brought  some  firemen  and  a  hand  en- 
gine from  the  city  there  was  nothing  left  to  save. 

Two  of  the  older  boys  were  accused  of  setting  the  houses  on 
fire.  They  were  arrested  and  confined  in  the  guard  house  on 

28 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

charges  of  arson  and  were  still  awaiting  trial  when  I  was  or- 
dered away  shortly  after. 

The  winter  had  set  in  early.  It  was  very  cold  at  times  and 
there  was  snow  on  the  ground.  We  felt  generally  depressed 
and  miserable,  when  quite  unexpectedly,  one  day  in  the  early 
part  of  December,  1854,  two  other  boys  and  myself  received 
orders  to  prepare  to  depart  to  Carlisle  Barracks,  at  Carlisle, 
Pa.,  there  to  be  assigned  to  the  Second  U.  S.  Infantry.  I  do 
not  know  why  I  was  selected  to  go.  Quite  a  number  of  the 
boys  had  been  on  the  island  longer  than  I,  and  some  were 
more  proficient.  But  I  felt  glad.  Surely  any  kind  of  a  change 
would  be  for  the  better.  The  next  day  I  and  my  companions, 
Peter  Moritz  and  Edward  Young,  both  a  year  or  two  older 
than  I,  received  a  pass  to  go  to  New  York  and  say  farewell  to 
our  parents  or  relatives,  whom  we  were  not  likely  to  see  again 
for  years. 

A  trusty  corporal  was  placed  in  charge  of  us.  He  had  orders 
not  to  allow  us  to  separate  nor  to  lose  sight  of  us  and  to  return 
with  us  to  the  island  before  evening.  In  this  way  we  were 
obliged  to  witness  each  other's  leave  taking  in  the  presence  of 
our  conductor.  There  were  tears  and  lamenting,  and  the  cor- 
poral, who  was  kindly,  but  did  not  like  his  task,  was  impor- 
tuned when  about  to  leave  one  house  for  another  to  "let  the 
poor  boy  stay  just  five  minutes  longer."  When  he  acceded  it 
generally  extended  to  fifteen  minutes  or  more.  As  none  of  us 
had  any  intention  to  desert  this  painful  way  of  parting  might 
have  been  spared  us.  There  was  no  special  need  to  hurry  us 
away,  and  sufficient  time  could  have  been  given  to  notify  our 
relatives  to  come  to  the  island  and  bid  us  farewell  there.  I  al- 
ways looked  upon  this  as  unnecessarily  harsh  treatment. 

We  all  had  some  lunch  in  an  eating  house,  made  a  few  small 
purchases  and  in  due  time  returned  to  the  island,  angry  at  the 
way  we  had  been  humiliated  by  the  orders  of  either  the  com- 
manding officer  or  the  adjutant.  Next  morning  we  packed  our 
kits  and  started  for  the  boat  landing  shortly  after  noon,  accom- 
panied by  some  of  the  boys  and  another  corporal  who  was  to 

29 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

take  us  to  Carlisle.  We  boarded  the  barge  in  which  I  had  come 
to  the  island  on  the  day  of  my  enlistment  nearly  nine  months 
before.  Sergeant  Brown,  who  soon  after  became  a  member 
of  my  company  at  Carlisle,  was  still  cockswain.  We  pushed 
off  amid  the  cheers  of  our  comrades  and  passed  over  the  East 
River  to  New  York. 

No  one  seemed  to  have  any  clear  idea  as  to  where  Carlisle 
was  or  how  long  a  time  it  would  take  to  get  there,  so  they 
loaded  us  with  three  days'  rations  of  boiled  salt  beef  and  bread, 
which  filled  our  haversacks  to  bursting.  This,  together  with  a 
canteen  filled  with  cold  coffee,  made  no  inconsiderable  load.  We 
wore  our  overcoats,  and  our  knapsacks  were  packed  with  a 
five-pound  blanket,  an  extra  jacket  and  trousers,  underwear 
and  stockings,  an  extra  pair  of  shoes,  clothes  and  shoe  brushes 
and  knick-knacks.  A  tin  wash  basin  was  strapped  onto  the 
back  of  the  knapsack.  All  this  made  a  load  enough  for  a  man 
to  carry.  We  passed  through  Battery  Park  and  staggered 
along  West  Street  in  the  direction  of  the  Jersey  City  Ferry, 
making  occasional  halts  for  a  rest,  when  crowds  would  collect 
about  us  and  ask  us  many  questions.  No  doubt  we  three  small 
boys  looked  ridiculous  to  them,  overloaded  as  we  were.  I  over- 
heard a  longshoreman  remark  that  he'd  "be  damned  before  he'd 
make  a  pack  horse  of  himself  for  Uncle  Sam." 

We  reached  the  ferry,  crossed  the  North  River  to  Jersey 
City  and  were  put  on  a  car  that  had  wooden  seats  without  any 
cushions.  It  was  the  first  time  that  I  had  ever  been  away  from 
New  York  on  a  railroad  train  and  I  was  much  interested  in 
watching  the  scenery  all  the  way  to  Philadelphia,  where  we  ar- 
rived about  dusk  and  changed  trains  for  Harrisburg.  I  opened 
my  haversack,  ate  my  frugal  supper  and  went  to  sleep,  tired 
out  with  the  day's  excitement.  About  midnight  the  corporal 
woke  us  up  at  Harrisburg  to  change  cars  for  Carlisle,  but  we 
found  that  there  would  be  no  train  to  Carlisle  until  eight 
o'clock  next  morning.  The  station  master  kindly  allowed  us  to 
stay  in  the  waiting  room  of  the  depot  for  the  remainder  of  the 
night.  There  was  a  good  fire  in  the  stove  and  some  benches  to 

30 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

lie  on,  so  we  passed  the  night  quite  comfortably.  We  all  had 
a  little  money  and  got  some  hot  coffee  and  rolls  at  the  depot 
next  morning  before  we  left  on  the  eight  o'clock  train  for  Car- 
lisle. We  arrived  there  in  less  than  two  hours,  with  our  three 
days'  rations  almost  intact.  There  was  snow  on  the  ground, 
through  which  we  trudged  laboriously  towards  the  garrison 
about  a  mile  away. 

I  was  glad  to  leave  Governor's  Island.  Its  narrow  limits  im- 
pressed me  as  a  place  of  confinement.  The  quarters  were  over- 
crowded, the  food  was  bad  and  insufficient,  the  discipline  very 
strict,  and  there  was  little  time  or  opportunity  for  recreation. 
It  was  monotonous  and  depressing,  and  although  later  during 
my  service  I  suffered  much  hardship  and  encountered  many 
dangers,  I  never  wished  myself  back  on  the  island  again. 
Among  the  many  boys  whom  I  knew  on  the  island  I  saw  but 
few  again,  outside  of  those  in  my  own  regiment.  They  were 
scattered  all  over  the  country,  serving  at  distant  posts  and  often 
changing.  Probably  but  few  are  living  now,  and  I  know  the 
whereabouts  of  only  one,  who  served  in  the  Seventh  U.  S.  In- 
fantry for  many  years  and  now  resides  in  New  York,  where  I 
see  him  occasionally  and  talk  over  old  times. 


31 


PART  II. 
AT  CARLISLE  BARRACKS,  PA.,  IN  1855. 


A~"TER  a  tramp  through  the  snow  with  our  heavy  loads 
from  the  Carlisle  depot,  we  reached  the  barracks  tired 
out.     The  corporal  reported  our  arrival  at  the  ad- 
jutant's office,  and  we  were  assigned  to  companies.     Moritz 
went  as  drummer  to  Company  I,  Young  as  fifer  to  Com- 
pany A,  and  myself  as  fifer  to  Company  D  of  the  Second 
United  States  Infantry. 

The  regimental  headquarters  were  there  together  with  the 
field  and  staff,  and  the  band,  companies  A,  G  and  I  had  been 
recruited  to  their  full  strength,  but  Company  D,  to  which  I 
was  assigned,  had  no  real  existence  as  yet.  There  were  only 
two  officers,  a  few  sergeants  and  corporals,  together  with  three 
or  four  privates,  some  of  whom  had  served  in  the  Mexican 
War,  which  was  all  that  was  left  of  Company  D  on  its  return 
from  the  Pacific  coast,  where  the  regiment  had  served  for  a 
number  of  years.  All  of  these  men  were  attached  to  other 
companies  until  such  time  as  recruits  would  be  received  to  fill 
up  the  ranks.  I  was  ordered  to  duty  temporarily  with 
Company  I. 

The  Second  Regiment  of  the  United  States  Infantry  was 
one  of  the  oldest  in  the  service.  It  was  organized  by  act  of 
Congress  on  March  3,  1791,  and  was  engaged  with  the  Indians 
on  Miami  River,  November  4,  1791.  It  had  fought  in  other 
Indian  Wars,  principally  against  the  Seminoles  in  Florida.  It 
took  part  in  the  War  of  1812,  and  participated  in  the  engage- 
ments of  the  Mexican  War  from  Vera  Cruz  to  the  City  of 
Mexico.  After  the  Mexican  War,,  and  at  about  the  time  of 

33 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

the  discovery  of  gold  in  California,  it  was  sent  there,  where  its 
men  built  Benicia  Barracks  near  San  Francisco,  Fort  Yuma 
and  other  posts. 

About  1850  it  became  known  that  the  Government  was  en- 
listing many  recruits  at  Governor's  Island  for  service  in  Cal- 
ifornia. The  gold  fever  was  at  its  height  and  hundreds  of 
soldiers  were  deserting  to  the  mines.  Men  who  had  served 
their  terms  scorned  re-enlistment  when  they  saw  so  many 
digging  wealth  from  the  hills  or  dipping  it  up  from  the  moun- 
tain streams.  For  the  same  reason  it  was  impossible  to  get 
recruits  in  gold-mad  California. 

But  no  such  difficulty  was  experienced  in  the  East.  There 
were  plenty  of  recruits,  but  the  sudden  increase  in  enlistments 
brought  into  the  army  some  of  the  worst  men  that  ever  joined 
it.  They  put  on  the  uniform  solely  for  the  purpose  of  getting 
free  transportation  to  California  at  the  Government's  expense. 
I  had  the  story  from  some  of  the  survivors  of  the  eventful 
trip  made  by  these  recruits  from  New  York  to  San  Francisco. 

A  steamship  was  chartered,  loaded  with  army  supplies  and 
some  hundreds  of  the  recruits.  They  were  under  the  com- 
mand of  Brevet  Major  George  W.  Patten,  of  the  Second 
United  States  Infantry,  with  whom  I  served  later  on  the  fron- 
tiers. Major  Patten  had  served  in  the  Mexican  War,  where 
he  had  lost  two  fingers  of  his  right  hand,  and  was  brevetted 
for  gallantry.  By  the  rank  and  file  he  was  called  "Three- 
fingered  Jack,"  and  was  known  as  an  easy  going  soul  who 
hated  any  sort  of  trouble,  of  which  he  and  the  young  and  in- 
experienced lieutenants  with  him  got  plenty  before  they 
reached  their  destination. 

Almost  the  first  day  at  sea  the  bad  element  among  the  re- 
cruits began  fighting  with  the  sailors.  They  stole  all  the  pro- 
visions they  could  lay  their  hands  on.  Fortunately  they  had 
no  arms;  these  were  packed  in  armchests,  and  stowed  in  the 
hold  of  the  ship.  Only  some  of  the  sergeants  carried  sidearms. 

The  first  stop  of  the  steamship  was  at  Kingston,  Jamaica, 
for  coal.  There  the  recruits  overran  the  guards,  got  posses- 

34 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

sion  of  a  coal  pile  and  had  a  pitched  battle  with  a  strong  force 
of  negro  police,  who  were  trying  to  keep  them  on  the  dock. 
They  soon  routed  the  police,  swarmed  all  over  the  town  and 
committed  many  depredations.  It  required  several  companies 
of  white  British  troops  to  round  them  up,  drive  them  back  to 
the  ship  and  keep  them  there  while  she  was  coaling. 

All  the  way  to  San  Francisco  the  unruly  element  made 
trouble.  They  laughed  at  the  mild  way  in  which  the  good  old 
major  disciplined  some  of  them.  I  was  told  that  when  one  of 
the  ring-leaders  was  brought  before  him  he  asked  his  name  ana 
promised  to  make  him  a  sergeant  in  his  own  regiment  when 
they  arrived  in  California,  if  he  would  only  behave  himself. 
After  their  arrival  in  San  Francisco,  most  of  these  ruffians 
deserted  as  soon  as  opportunity  offered.  Many  of  them  made 
their  way  to  the  gold  diggings,  and  very  few  of  them  were 
ever  recaptured. 

In  1854  the  Second  United  States  Infantry  had  become 
greatly  reduced  in  numbers  from  various  casualties,  and  what 
remained  of  the  regiment  was  ordered  East.  Some  companies 
were  consolidated,  and  the  skeleton  organizations  of  others 
filled  up  with  recruits.  A  few  were  entirely  re-enlisted.  Com- 
panies A,  D,  G  and  I  were  at  Carlisle,  Pa.,  and  the  remaining 
six  companies  were  at  Forts  Snelling,  Ridgely  and  Ripely  on 
the  upper  Mississippi  and  Minnesota  Rivers,  protecting  the 
settlers  from  the  Indians. 

I  found  Carlisle  barracks  a  very  agreeable  change  from 
Governors  Island.  It  had  been  built  to  serve  as  a  dragoon  bar- 
racks, and  had  quarters  and  stables  enough  for  a  regiment,  but 
during  my  time,  was  used  only  for  the  Infantry.  On  July  1, 
1864,  a  part  of  the  Confederate  Army,  on  their  march  to 
Gettysburg,  fired  some  shells  into  the  town  of  Carlisle  and  set 
fire  to  the  barracks,  but  they  succeeded  in  destroying  only  a 
part  of  the  buildings.  On  a  recent  visit  there  I  found  some  of 
the  former  officers'  and  soldiers'  quarters  still  standing,  also 
the  commanding  officer's  house,  the  adjutant's  office  and  guard 
house,  all  of  which,  together  with  a  number  of  new  buildings, 

35 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

are  now  used  as  a  Government  Indian  school  and  have  been 
for  many  years. 

The  soldiers'  quarters  were  three-story  buildings  with  a 
wide  veranda  at  every  floor,  facing  the  parade  ground.  There 
company  roll  calls  were  held  in  bad  weather.  The  rooms  were 
large  enough  not  to  be  crowded;  but  the  bunks  were  the  old- 
fashioned  two-tier  kind.  Two  men  slept  in  each  of  the  lower 
and  upper  bunks,  and  it  was  uncomfortable.  The  rooms  were 
heated  by  stoves  in  which  we  burned  wood.  They  were  com- 
fortably warm  during  the  winter,  which  I  found  less  severe 
in  Southern  Pennsylvania  than  in  New  York. 

Our  rations  were  much  improved.  We  were  able  to  add  many 
extras  from  the  company  funds.  We  were  in  the  midst  of  a 
fine  farming  region  and  could  purchase  all  kinds  of  vegetables, 
and  other  products  very  cheap  from  the  farmers  who  came  to 
the  barracks  for  that  purpose.  When  spring  came  we  took 
long  walks.  We  were  allowed  to  go  anywhere  within  a  mile 
limit  without  a  pass,  but  generally  went  much  further.  Few 
depredations  were  committed,  and  many  of  the  farmers  were 
delightfully  hospitable,  often  giving  us  milk,  and  other  things, 
on  our  tramps  about  the  country. 

Carlisle,  the  county  seat  of  Cumberland  County,  Pa.,  was 
then  a  town  of  about  seven  thousand  inhabitants,  having 
churches,  schools,  hotels,  banks,  stores,  some  saloons  and  many 
good  private  houses.  There  also  was  Dickinson  College,  a 
Methodist  institution  of  renown,  which  is  still  flourishing. 
The  town  was  easy  of  access  for  the  soldiers,  who  often  went 
there  without  the  formality  of  a  pass.  It  was  but  a  mile  away 
from  the  barracks,  and  considerably  less  for  those  who  used  a 
favorite  route,  crossing  a  small  creek  on  a  log,  and  cutting 
across  the  intervening  fields. 

Unfortunately  for  some  of  the  soldiers,  there  was  a  dis- 
tillery on  the  outskirts  of  the  town  quite  near  where  the  log 
crossed  the  stream,  where  newly  made  whiskey  was  sold  for 
a  shilling  (twelve  and  a  half  cents)  per  quart,  or  eighteen  cents 
for  a  canteen  full.  Shillings  were  still  in  circulation,  and 

36 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

there  was  no  high  tax  on  spirits.  This  cheap  and  easy  way  to 
procure  liquor  was  the  means  of  sending  many  a  soldier  to 
the  guard  house. 

Occasionally,  during  the  winter,  there  was  a  theatrical  per- 
formance in  the  town,  which  a  limited  number  of  soldiers  re- 
ceived leave  of  absence  to  attend.  Another  favorite  amuse- 
ment was  a  dance  at  a  tavern  or  roadhouse  outside  of  the  town 
where  we  had  a  chance  to  meet  some  of  the  farmers'  daugh- 
ters. I  borrowed  a  gun  sometimes,  and  got  a  few  rabbits. 
I  also  had  some  sleigh  rides.  Indeed,  our  liberty  contrasted 
so  favorably  with  the  narrow  confines  of  Governor's  Island 
that  the  mild  winter  passed  very  quickly. 

In  about  a  month  after  my  arrival  at  Carlisle,  the  comple- 
ment of  recruits  required  for  Company  D  was  sent  on  from 
Governor's  Island,  and  the  company  took  up  quarters  by  them- 
selves in  a  new  two-story  building,  with  a  messroom  in  the 
basement,  on  the  easterly  side  of  the  barracks.  The  recruits 
were  all  young  men,  twenty  to  twenty-five  years  old,  hailing 
from  various  parts  of  the  country.  A  considerable  portion 
were  foreign-born,  mostly  Irish,  although  there  were  some  Ger- 
mans and  a  few  other  nationalities.  Their  previous  occupa- 
tions ranged  all  the  way  from  a  school  teacher  to  farm  laborer. 
Some  were  fairly  well  educated  and  others  ignorant  to  the 
point  of  illiteracy.  There  were  many  mechanics  of  all  sorts 
among  them  who  had  worked  as  journeymen  at  their  trades. 
Also  there  were  some  runaway  apprentices.  We  found  those 
of  a  mechanical  experience  very  useful  later  on  at  the 
frontiers. 

As  usual,  they  had  enlisted  for  various  reasons.  Some  had 
the  "Wanderlust" ;  others  had  a  taste  for  adventure  and  hoped 
to  satisfy  it  in  a  soldier's  life.  Some  had  joined  from  sheer 
necessity,  or  inability  to  find  any  other  occupation  to  support 
themselves.  This  last  was  a  very  common  cause.  There  were 
also  a  few  "ne'er-do-wells"  who  were  of  no  use  anywhere,  and 
a  detriment  to  the  army.  It  took  months  to  drill  and  discipline 
these  men,  and  to  make  serviceable  soldiers  of  them.  But  after 

37 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

a  time  their  awkwardness  disappeared.  They  carried  them- 
selves erect,  and  there  was  a  marked  improvement,  except  in  a 
few  who  seemed  too  stupid  to  be  taught  and  strained  the  drill 
sergeant's  patience  to  the  breaking  point.  Every  company 
seemed  to  have  a  few  members  so  awkward  as  to  disarrange 
any  well  drilled  company.  Whenever  possible  these  were  de- 
tailed to  some  special  duty,  which  kept  them  out  of  the  ranks. 

The  men  were  left  to  choose  their  bunkies,  and  pair  off  as 
they  pleased.  I  bunked  with  one  of  the  sergeants  of  the  com- 
pany who  had  served  in  Mexico  and  in  California.  He  was  a 
middle  aged  man  of  exemplary  character,  who  took  a  sort  of 
fatherly  interest  in  me.  He  taught  me  many  things  useful 
in  a  soldier's  life. 

I  met  with  one  great  disappointment  on  joining  Company  D. 
I  had  hoped  to  have  as  a  companion  a  drummer-boy  of  about 
my  own  age,  with  whom  I  could  chum.  This  desire  was 
strengthened  by  the  knowledge  that  the  fifer  was  considered  to 
rank  the  drummer  and  in  the  absence  of  special  instructions 
could  order  the  drummer  to  play  such  tunes  or  marches  as  he 
chose.  But  I  found  myself  associated  with  a  man  who  was  a 
dozen  years  my  senior.  He  was  serving  his  second  enlistment, 
and  had  been  transferred  from  some  other  regiment  and  sent  to 
Carlisle.  He  was  a  married  man  without  any  children,  and 
lived  in  another  part  of  the  garrison  away  from  the  company. 
His  wife,  a  rather  attractive  and  genteel  young  woman,  was 
one  of  the  four  laundresses  which  the  army  regulations  allowed 
to  each  company,  and  provided  free  with  a  soldier's  daily 
ration,  quarters,  transportation,  and  medical  attendance. 

My  drummer  was  a  tall,  haggard  man  with  a  sallow  face.  I 
was  still  a  few  inches  short  of  having  attained  the  height  of 
five  feet,  and  when  my  tall  drummer  and  I  marched  at  the  head 
of  the  company  we  were  called  the  "long  and  the  short  of  it," 
which  greatly  annoyed  me  as  I  was  very  sensitive  to  ridicule. 
Another  annoyance  was  the  fact  that  he  was  not  a  very  good 
drummer,  and  would  not  take  the  trouble  to  learn  any  new  and 
fancy  pieces,  as  we  boys  did.  Whenever  I  had  to  play  with 

38 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

him  alone  I  was  obliged  to  content  myself  with  the  old  reper- 
toire. Aside  from  these  differences,  we  managed  to  get  along 
well  enough,  as  he  was  a  sober  and  solemn  man  who  kept  very 
much  to  himself.  But  I  always  missed  the  companionship  of 
a  more  youthful  spirit. 

The  commander  of  my  company  at  this  time  was  Captain 
and  Brevet  Major  Samuel  P.  Heintzelman,  a  native  of  Penn- 
sylvania who  during  the  Civil  War  commanded  an  army  corps 
in  the  army  of  the  Potomac,  and  became  a  major  general.  His 
grey  hair  and  beard  gave  him  a  fatherly  appearance,  and  he 
was  well  liked  by  the  men.  He  was  fond  of  bean  soup,  the 
kind  that  only  soldiers  can  make.  He  frequently  sent  his  serv- 
ant to  the  Company  kitchen  for  a  quart  of  bean  soup.  Captain 
Heintzelman  remained  with  us  but  a  few  months  when  he  was 
promoted  to  Major  of  the  First  Regiment  of  Infantry.  We  re- 
gretted to  lose  him.  The  first  lieutenant  was  Thomas  W. 
Sweeney,  a  native  of  Ireland,  who  had  lost  an  arm  in  the  Mex- 
ican War.  He  retired  from  the  service  in  1870,  with  the  rank 
of  Brigadier  General.  He  was  a  good  soldier.  The  second 
lieutenant  was  John  D.  O'Connell,  of  Pennsylvania,  a  tall,  fine- 
looking  man,  somewhat  given  to  swearing  when  he  got  angry, 
but  a  fair  and  just  man.  I  do  not  know  what  became  of  him 
after  the  war.  We  had  three  efficient  officers  who  took  good 
care  of  the  company.  Captain  Heintzelman  and  Lieutenant 
O'Connell,  were  both  West  Point  graduates.  The  commander 
of  the  post  was  John  J.  Abercrombie,  lieutenant  colonel  of  our 
regiment.  He  was  also  a  West  Pointer  and  had  joined  the 
army  in  1822.  He  was  a  good  tactician  and  a  very  proud  and 
dignified  officer. 

In  March,  1855,  great  changes  took  place.  The  U.  S.  Army, 
which  then  consisted  of  only  eight  regiments  of  infantry,  two 
of  dragoons,  one  of  mounted  rifles,  four  of  artillery,  of  which 
but  two  companies  in  each  regiment  were  batteries,  and  a  few 
engineer  and  ordnance  soldiers,  was  authorized  by  act  of  Con- 
gress on  March  3,  1855,  to  be  increased  by  the  formation  of 
two  additional  regiments  of  infantry,  the  Ninth  and  Tenth,  and 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

two  of  cavalry,  the  First  and  Second.  The  old  names  of  "Dra- 
goons" and  "Mounted  Rifles"  were  dropped,  and  those  regi- 
ments were  thereafter  known  as  the  Third,  Fourth  and  Fifth 
Cavalry.  General  Scott's  infantry  tactics  were  abandoned  for 
Colonel  Hardee's. 

The  old  smooth  bore  musket,  which  carried  a  ball  and  three 
buckshots  at  short  range,  was  replaced  by  a  long  range  rifle 
with  a  barrel  of  a  dull  finish  and  a  sword  bayonet.  The  old 
fashioned  cross  belts  were  done  away  with,  and  the  cartridge 
boxes  made  smaller.  The  heavy  shakos  and  clumsy  fatigue 
caps  were  replaced  by  a  lighter  and  neater  uniform  hat,  and  a 
Kepi,  after  the  French  army  style.  The  cut  of  the  dress  coat 
was  altered  and  made  to  look  smarter,  and  polished  brass  epau- 
lets were  worn.  All  this  made  a  decided  improvement  in  the 
appearance  of  the  soldiers  on  parade. 

The  change  in  tactics  made  extra  drilling  necessary.  The 
old  had  to  be  unlearned  and  the  new  acquired.  After  we  had 
become  proficient  in  the  new  drill,  Colonel  Abercrombie  some- 
times marched  the  four  companies,  with  the  band  and  field  mu- 
sic ahead,  through  the  town  to  the  Dickinson  College  grounds 
which  were  on  the  side  nearly  opposite  to  the  barracks.  There 
he  put  us  through  a  battalion  drill.  These  drills  and  marches 
through  the  town  took  place  on  fine  spring  days,  much  to  the 
delight  of  Carlisle's  citizens,  who  turned  out  in  great  numbers 
to  see  the  spectacle  and  to  hear  the  band  play. 

I  had  a  very  easy  time  at  Carlisle  barracks.  I  attended  the 
roll  calls  at  reveille,  retreat,  tattoo  and  guard  mounting ;  drilled 
and  practiced  for  an  hour  each  day  except  Saturdays,  and 
served  as  orderly  at  the  adjutant's  office  about  once  a  week.  I 
had  a  great  deal  of  spare  time  which  I  spent  in  roving  around 
the  country.  I  also  went  to  town  quite  often.  There  was  no 
school  so  I  bought  some  books  and  did  some  studying  evenings 
with  the  assistance  of  some  of  the  men  in  my  company.  I  be- 
gan to  like  "soldiering."  I  wore  a  fine,  showy  uniform  dress 
coat  of  dark  blue  cloth  with  the  standing  collar,  cuffs  and 
breast  faced  with  light  blue  cloth,  which  made  it  very  conspic- 

40 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

uous  and  distinguished  the  musicians  from  the  non-commis- 
sioned officers  and  privates.  The  trousers  were  of  light  blue 
cloth,  and  the  Kepi  (cap)  of  dark  blue  ornamented  with  a  small 
brass  bugle  and  the  regimental  number  above  a  straight  visor. 
I  had  a  pair  of  brass  epaulets,  or  "scales,"  as  we  called  them, 
which,  together  with  my  coat  buttons  and  cap  ornaments,  I 
kept  highly  polished.  I  also  had  a  bright  sword,  for  each  mu- 
sician, and  the  first  or  orderly  sergeant  of  each  infantry  com- 
pany carried  a  straight  sword.  The  sword  belt  was  made  of 
black  leather  and  had  a  brass  clasp  ornamented  with  an  eagle 
and  a  wreath  of  white  metal.  My  sword  was  rather  long  for 
me  at  this  time,  and  it  used  to  get  between  my  legs  at  first  when 
marching,  and  trip  me  up.  It  took  some  time  to  become  accus- 
tomed to  it. 

My  pay  was  twelve  dollars  per  month,  with  everything  found 
and  I  looked  pityingly  upon  citizen  boys  of  my  age  who  had  to 
slave  for  a  couple  of  dollars  per  week. 

I  was  approaching  my  fourteenth  year,  and  outside  of  my 
military  obligations  felt  that  I  was  my  own  master.  This,  I 
suppose,  made  me  think  I  was  a  man  in  spite  of  my  youth.  I 
fear  that  at  this  period  I  felt  "a  little  cockey"  or  vain,  and 
showed  it.  This  feeling,  however,  I  got  rid  of  after  I  expe- 
rienced real  service  in  the  frontiers.  I  bought  some  white 
shirts,  "boiled  shirts,"  as  we  soldiers  called  them,  also  neckties 
and  "bear's  grease"  for  my  hair.  With  all  this  I  arrayed  my- 
self gorgeously  when  I  went  to  town.  Sometimes  I  wore  a  red 
sash  instead  of  my  belt  and  sword  which  I  was  not  allowed  to 
carry  into  town.  I  began  to  correspond  with  some  of  the  town 
girls,  who  admired  the  soldiers,  and  I  made  calls  on  some  of 
them. 

We  music  boys  patronized  a  small  ice  cream  and  candy  store 
kept  by  a  widow  and  her  daughter.  There  was  a  back  room 
where  we  often  met  and  were  served  with  soft  drinks  and  cake. 
Between  pay  days,  when  we  had  run  out  of  money,  the  widow 
gave  us  credit. 

The  freedom  I  enjoyed  here  was  a  great  contrast  to  my  un- 

41 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

happy  experience  on  Governor's  Island,  where  I  had  but  little 
liberty,  was  half  starved  and  was  badly  treated  in  many  ways. 
I  look  back  with  pleasure  to  my  six  months'  stay  at  Carlisle, 
whose  citizens  were  always  friendly  to  the  soldiers.  There  was 
but  little  of  the  rough  element  in  that  staid  old  Pennsylvania 
town,  and  I  cannot  recall  that  any  serious  difficulty  or  encoun- 
ter ever  took  place  between  the  citizens  and  soldiers  during  our 
stay  there. 

While  at  Carlisle  barracks,  I  was  obliged  to  take  part  in  a  dis- 
graceful scene — the  drumming  out  of  two  soldiers.  They  had 
been  tried  for  desertion  by  a  general  court  martial,  found  guilty 
and  sentenced  to  be  indelibly  marked  on  the  left  hip  with  the 
letter  D,  four  inches  in  height,  to  have  their  heads  shaved,  to 
be  dishonorably  discharged  and  drummed  out  of  service.  This 
sentence  was  executed  one  cold  winter  morning,  directly  after 
reveille.  The  companies  who  had  just  answered  roll  call  were 
kept  formed  while  all  of  the  fifers  and  drummers  marched  to 
the  guard  house.  There  we  formed  ranks,  the  two  prisoners 
in  front,  bare  headed,  closely  followed  by  four  privates  and  a 
corporal,  their  guns  at  a  position  of  "Charge  bayonets."  The 
field  music  was  behind,  playing  what  is  called  "The  Rogue's 
March."  In  this  way  the  prisoners,  whose  closely  shaved  heads 
presented  an  absurd  appearance,  were  marched  around  the 
four  sides  of  the  parade  ground,  past  the  companies  standing 
in  ranks,  back  to  the  guard  house  and  through  the  gate  adjoin- 
ing. There  we  halted,  their  caps  and  small  bundles  containing 
their  little  belongings  were  handed  to  them,  also  a  dishonorable 
discharge,  then  we  watched  them  for  a  while  as  they  hastened 
down  the  road  towards  the  town.  They  did  not  enter  it,  how- 
ever, but  cut  across  the  fields  and  soon  disappeared  from  sight. 

This  spectacular  exhibition  of  a  brutal  punishment  seemed 
to  me  like  a  relic  of  barbarity.  It  was  conceived  in  the  virulent 
minds  of  some  of  the  officers  who  tried  the  prisoners.  The  sen- 
tence was  duly  approved  by  a  higher  authority,  although  it  was 
not  in  accordance  with  the  punishments  as  prescribed  in  the 
army  regulations.  Young  as  I  was,  I  felt  ashamed  and  indig- 

42 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

nant  at  being  compelled  to  be  an  actor  in  this  disgraceful  scene. 

A  company  of  soldiers,  after  they  have  served  together  for 
some  months,  become  like  a  large  family.  My  own  company 
was  a  fair  sample.  We  soon  knew  each  other's  good  points, 
failings  and  weaknesses.  It  took  but  a  short  time  for  the  com- 
pany to  separate  itself  into  two  parties;  the  larger  of  which 
contained  the  men  who  kept  themselves  clean,  and  took  some 
pride  in  soldiering.  The  other  contingent,  happily  small  in 
numbers,  were  often  slovenly,  disorderly,  and  sometimes  vic- 
ious. They  were  given  to  quarrelling,  and  occasional  fighting. 
Though  they  banded  together,  they  were  not  able  to  create 
much  trouble  while  in  the  quarters,  as  they  were  so  largely  out- 
numbered. It  became  necessary  sometimes  to  teach  one  of 
them  a  severe  lesson,  and  I  remember  one  case  wherein  a  man 
of  filthy  habits  was  taken  to  the  creek  by  his  comrades,  strip- 
ped and  washed  with  soap  and  sand  until  his  skin  was  raw. 

As  we  had  no  way  to  lock  up  anything  we  owned  we  were 
particularly  severe  on  petty  thieves,  taking  the  law  into  our 
own  hands,  by  giving  the  guilty  one  a  sound  beating.  This  had 
a  good  effect.  Of  those  we  punished  none  ever  complained  of 
their  treatment  to  the  officers,  knowing  that  they  would  receive 
small  consolation  from  them.  After  a  few  rigorous  punish- 
ments it  was  seldom  that  a  soldier  missed  anything. 

Tricks  were  played  upon  us  boys  once  in  a  while.  We  played 
our  calls  at  the  flag  staff  in  front  of  the  commanding  officer's 
house,  where,  when  commencing  to  play,  some  fifer  would 
nearly  burst  himself  trying  to  blow  his  instrument.  Upon  in- 
vestigation he  would  find  it  stuffed  with  paper  or  rags. 
Sometimes  a  drummer  would  find  the  drumhead  greased  or 
the  snares  loosened.  The  bandsmen  also  had  their  troubles. 
Their  brass  instruments  were  filled  with  water  or  stuffed  with 
rags;  these  experiences  soon  taught  us  to  examine  our  in- 
struments before  going  to  the  parade  ground. 

Early  in  March,  1855,  Major  Edmund  B.  Alexander  of  the 
Eighth  Infantry,  arrived  after  having  been  promoted  to  col- 
onel of  the  Tenth  Infantry,  one  of  the  new  regiments.  As  he 

43 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

ranked  Lieutenant  Colonel  Abercrombie  he  took  command  of 
the  post.  The  headquarters  of  the  Tenth  Infantry  were  es- 
tablished at  Carlisle  barracks.  Officers  and  recruits  for  the 
new  regiment  began  to  arrive,  and  the  post  took  on  a  more 
lively  appearance  as  company  after  company  of  the  new  regi- 
ment was  formed.  We  began  to  be  somewhat  crowded.  The 
parade  ground  within  the  barracks  proved  to  be  too  small  for 
drilling  all  the  companies  at  the  same  time,  and  some  of  them 
were  obliged  to  exercise  in  adjoining  fields. 

The  addition  of  four  new  regiments  to  the  United  States 
Army,  and  the  necessary  increase  of  more  than  one  hundred 
and  fifty  officers  brought  joy  to  the  hearts  of  many  of  the  old 
officers,  who  had  long  waited  for  promotion.  Advancement  in 
time  of  peace  is  naturally  very  slow.  Many  grey  haired  first 
lieutenants  became  captains,  some  elderly  captains  became 
majors,  and  a  few  majors  were  promoted  to  colonels.  The 
second  lieutenants  were  supplied  from  West  Point  as  far  as 
possible.  There  was  a  very  scanty  promotion  from  the  ranks, 
but  quite  a  number  of  appointments  from  civil  life — many  of 
these  through  political  influence  more  than  for  any  merit  the 
candidates  possessed. 

Before  the  raising  of  the  four  new  regiments  the  number  of 
officers  in  the  army  who  had  been  appointed  from  civil  life 
was  very  small.  Most  of  them  dated  from  the  war  with  Mex- 
ico. These  men  had  seen  service  and  were  experienced.  We 
did  not  take  kindly  to  the  newly  appointed  lieutenants  from 
civil  life.  Few  of  them  knew  anything  of  military  work,  and 
for  some  we  had  contempt.  But  we  respected  the  young  offi- 
cers from  the  military  academy,  who  understood  their  busi- 
ness. 

The  various  promotions  caused  many  transfers  of  officers 
to  serve  in  higher  grades  in  other  regiments.  My  company 
lost  Captain  and  Brevet  Major  Samuel  P.  Heintzelman,  who 
left  us,  much  to  our  regret,  to  become  a  Major  of  the  First 
United  States  Infantry ;  William  M.  Gardner,  a  native  of  the 
State  of  Georgia,  and  a  West  Point  man,  became  our  next 

44 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

captain,  having  been  promoted  and  transferred  from  another 
regiment.  He  was  an  ardent  Southerner  who  most  cordially 
hated  the  "Abolitionist" — a  haughty,  high-spirited,  irritable 
man,  more  feared  than  liked  by  the  soldiers.  He  was  middle- 
aged  and  unmarried,  slight  and  of  medium  size  with  a  swarthy 
complexion.  His  delicate  physique  caused  him  to  suffer  much 
from  the  severe  hardships  endured  while  on  the  frontiers,  but 
he  bore  them  courageously  and  without  a  murmur. 

He  remained  captain  of  Company  D  until  his  native  state 
seceded  from  the  Union,  when  he  resigned  his  commission, 
and  joined  the  Confederacy.  There,  I  have  been  told,  he  be- 
came a  brigadier  general  and  lost  a  leg  during  the  war.  I  re- 
member Captain  Gardner  with  the  kindest  of  feelings,  and  I 
am  grateful  to  him  for  special  acts  of  kindness  and  indulgence. 
He  never  was  harsh  or  hasty  to  me,  and  often  he  gave  me  good 
advice,  which  to  my  regret  I  did  not  always  follow. 

We  had  a  mild  winter  at  Carlisle,  as  I  have  said,  and  spring 
opened  early.  In  May  it  was  warm  enough  to  bathe  in  the 
deep  holes  of  the  small  creek,  near  the  garrison,  and  we  often 
enjoyed  swimming  in  a  river  some  miles  away.  There  was  a 
large  cave  in  that  vicinity  into  which  we  often  went  for  the 
pleasure  of  shouting  and  hearing  the  echoes.  The  country 
was  beautiful.  There  were  large  farms,  with  prosperous- 
looking  houses.  I  never  tired  of  wandering  about  on  the  good 
roads  that  stretched  in  all  directions. 

I  found  much  amusement  in  watching  the  drilling  of  the 
raw  recruits  of  the  Tenth  Infantry,  for  we  of  the  Second 
considered  ourselves  trained  soldiers  now  and  laughed  at  their 
awkwardness  as  others  had  probably  laughed  at  us. 

A  certain  Irish  sergeant  had  a  most  peculiar  way  of  his  own 
of  elucidating  the  tactics  to  the  recruits,  and  often  lost  his 
temper  when  things  were  done  wrong.  One  day,  after  he  had 
patiently  explained  and  demonstrated  to  his  squad  that,  when 
given  the  command,  "Forward  march,"  each  man  must  step 
off  with  his  left  foot,  about  half  of  the  squad  advanced  the 
right  foot. 

45 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

"Didn't  I  tell  y'es  the  roight  fut's  not  the  roight  fut?"  he 
shouted.  "The  lift  fut's  the  roight  fut." 

Sometimes  it  happened  that  some  inattention  of  the  instruc- 
tor himself  would  cause  amusement  when  drilling  some  of  the 
larger  squads  in  marching.  At  the  command  "By  the  right 
flank,  right  face,  forward  march,"  one-half  of  the  squad  mis- 
understanding the  command,  would  face  to  the  left,  and  march 
on  until  brought  up  against  a  fence  or  other  obstruction.  At 
the  same  time  the  other  half  marched  with  the  instructor  at 
their  flank  in  the  opposite  direction,  until  he  commanded, 
"Halt,  front  face,"  and  discovered  the  missing  half  on  the 
other  side  of  the  parade  ground  "marking  time,"  and  waiting 
for  a  command. 

An  old  soldier  of  my  company  named  Coffey  was  married 
and  had  several  children.  One  of  them  was  called  "Kitty." 
She  was  a  little  freckled- faced  four-year-old  who  had  the  most 
astonishing  red  hair  that  I  ever  saw.  Kitty  had  a  roving  dis- 
position, and  wandered  all  over  the  garrison,  and  into  the  sol- 
diers' quarters.  Everyone  played  with  her,  and  she  was  a  gen- 
eral favorite.  She  loved  the  soldiers,  and  the  only  way  we 
could  make  her  go  home  was  to  say  to  her,  "Kitty  your  hair's 
on  fire,  run  home  and  tell  your  mother."  Kitty  would  then 
scamper  off  crying. 

She  dearly  loved  to  hear  the  band  play,  and  often  got  in  the 
way  on  the  parade  ground.  One  day  at  guard  mounting,  Lieu- 
tenant O'Connoll,  of  my  company,  who  had  a  keen  sense  of 
humor,  was  acting  as  adjutant.  He  was  about  to  march  the 
guard  in  review,  when  he  discovered  Kitty  directly  in  front 
of  the  band,  gazing  at  them  with  admiration.  He  changed  the 
customary  words  of  command  to  "Column  forward,  guide 
right— Kitty  Coffey  get  out  of  the  way — March!"  all  in  the 
same  tone  of  voice. 

I  have  seen  Lieutenant  O'Connoll,  a  big  raw-boned,  black- 
whiskered  Pennsylvanian,  whom  we  learned  to  like  in  spite  of 
his  very  forcible  language,  fly  into  such  a  passion  at  drill  that 
he  would  plunge  his  sword  into  the  ground  half  way  up  to  the 

46 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

hilt  and  hold  up  his  hands  in  despair,  vigorously  berating  the 
company  for  some  false  movement.  Sometimes,  however,  he 
would  laud  them  when  they  did  their  work  well. 

About  the  first  of  June,  1855,  orders  arrived  for  the  imme- 
diate departure  of  the  four  companies  of  the  Second  Infantry 
stationed  at  Carlisle  to  Fort  Pierre  on  the  Missouri  River  in 
Nebraska  Territory.  We  were  to  form  a  part  of  the  Sioux 
Expedition,  under  Brigadier  General  William  S.  Harney,  for 
the  purpose  of  chastising  one  of  the  tribes  of  the  Sioux  nation, 
who  nearly  a  year  before  had  massacred  Lieutenant  John  L. 
G  rattan,  and  his  escort  of  twenty-one  soldiers,  who  had  been 
sent  out  from  Fort  Laramie  to  hold  a  parley  with  them.  As 
the  Government  had  but  a  handful  of  soldiers  at  Laramie, 
vengeance  had  to  be  delayed  until  a  sufficient  number  of  troops 
from  our  small  army  could  be  gathered  for  the  purpose. 

General  Harney  had  been  made  leader  of  the  expedition  be- 
cause he  was  an  old  experienced  Indian  fighter,  known  and 
feared  by  many  of  the  Indians.  We  made  our  preparations 
quickly,  paid  some  farewell  visits  in  the  town  and  in  a  day  or 
two  were  ready  to  start  as  soon  as  transportation  could  be  pro- 
vided. 

I  had  some  regrets  at  leaving  Carlisle  Barracks,  where  I 
had  experienced  none  of  the  ennui  of  a  soldier's  life,  but  had 
thoroughly  enjoyed  myself.  I  think,  however,  that  my  regrets 
were  more  than  counter-balanced  by  the  prospect  of  new 
scenes  far  away  from  civilization  in  a  country  inhabited  only 
by  savages,  and  which  at  that  time  had  been  but  imperfectly 
explored. 


PART  III. 

JOURNEY  FROM  CARLISLE  TO  FORT  PIERRE,  NEBRASKA  TERRI- 
TORY IN  1855. 

COMPANIES  A,  D,  G  and  I  left  Carlisle  Barracks  about 
the  first  week  in  June,  1855.  We  formed  on  the  parade 
ground  for  the  last  time  on  a  Saturday  afternoon  in  full 
marching  order,  our  haversacks  filled  with  three  days'  rations 
of  hard  bread  and  boiled  salt  pork.  At  the  command  of  Col. 
Abercrombie  we  started  off  in  a  quick  step,  the  band  playing 
alternately,  "The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me"  and  "The  Bold  Sol- 
dier Boy,"  both  old-fashioned  tunes  that  it  was  customary  to 
play  on  such  occasions.  We  marched  past  the  guard  house 
where  the  officer  of  the  day  and  guard  of  the  Tenth  Infantry 
saluted  us  with  a  "Present  arms." 

We  passed  down  the  road  to  a  point  on  the  railroad  track 
leading  into  the  town  where  a  special  train  awaited  us  on  a  sid- 
ing. The  train  was  made  up  of  a  few  baggage  cars,  a  passen- 
ger car  with  upholstered  seats  for  the  officers,  and  "emigrant 
cars"  with  bare  wooden  seats,  for  the  enlisted  men  and  the 
wives  and  children  of  the  married  soldiers.  None  of  the  offi- 
cers' wives  and  children  went  with  us;  two  years  or  more 
elapsed  before  they  saw  them  again. 

Lieut.  Sweeney  of  my  company  was  left  behind,  detailed  for 
some  special  duty.  Capt.  Gardner  and  Lieut.  O'Connell,  both 
bachelors,  were  with  the  company.  The  last  farewells  were 
said,  and  amid  tears  and  cheers  from  some  of  the  soldiers  of 
the  Tenth  Infantry  and  the  citizens  from  the  town,  we  started 
on  our  long  journey. 

I  had  a  seat  at  a  car  window  and  was  greatly  interested  in 
the  constantly  changing  scenery.  We  had  to  go  back  to  Har- 

49 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

risburgh  to  get  to  the  main  line  to  Pittsburgh.  Traveling  by 
railroad  was  slow  at  that  time,  particularly  so  in  our  case  as 
we  had  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  passenger  trains.  We  put  in 
a  bad  night  on  the  hard  seats  and  in  the  morning  were  at  Al- 
toona,  where  hot  coffee  was  brought  into  the  cars  and  served 
to  us  from  milk  cans.  Arrangements  had  been  made  to  give 
us  coffee  two  or  three  times  per  day  while  en  route. 

We  made  slow  progress  over  the  Allegheny  Mountains, 
sometimes  having  an  extra  locomotive  to  push  us  along,  and  it 
was  late  Sunday  afternoon  when  we  reached  Pittsburgh.  We 
had  to  change  trains  here,  and  as  we  marched  through  the 
streets  to  another  depot,  a  crowd  of  people  followed  us.  There 
were  four  companies  with  a  band  and  colors,  probably  more 
regular  soldiers  than  they  had  ever  seen  at  one  time  before. 
We  were  delayed  a  long  time  at  the  depot;  but  finally  we 
started,  and  after  another  miserable  night  on  the  hard  seats, 
we  left  the  cars  in  the  morning,  crossed  a  river  on  a  ferry- 
boat and  were  in  Toledo,  Ohio.  Stacking  arms  in  one  of  the 
streets,  we  sat  on  the  curb  stones  and  ate  our  meager  breakfast 
of  hard  bread  and  pork,  together  with  hot  coffee  served  in  our 
quart  tin  cups. 

A  crowd  of  citizens  watched  us  with  interest.  They  asked 
many  questions  and  made  remarks,  some  not  very  compli- 
mentary to  our  appearance.  We  had  been  two  nights  on  the 
dusty  cars  with  no  opportunity  to  wash  ourselves  or  to  clean 
our  clothing.  I  remember  overhearing  a  stylish  young  lady 
say  to  her  dudish  escort,  "Oh!  John,  see  how  dirty  they  are 
and  look  at  the  big  shoes  they  wear." 

We  waited  for  some  hours  and  then  left  for  Chicago  on  an- 
other train.  Next  morning,  stiff  and  sore  from  our  cramped 
seats,  we  were  outside  of  Chicago  on  the  Illinois  prairies,  go- 
ing south  towards  Alton  on  the  Mississippi.  During  this  third 
night  on  the  cars,  as  many  as  could  find  room  lay  down  on 
their  blankets  in  the  passage-way,  securing  a  few  hours  of 
fitful  sleep  at  the  risk  of  being  stepped  on. 

Towns  and  villages  were  far  apart  in  Illinois  at  that  time. 

50 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

We  traveled  many  miles  without  seeing  a  tree  or  a  bush.  It 
was  my  first  view  of  a  prairie.  Towards  evening  we  arrived 
at  Alton  and  detrained  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town.  There 
we  took  shelter  in  some  empty  barns  and  other  vacant  build- 
ings, on  the  floors  of  which  we  were  glad  to  get  a  night's  rest. 
Next  morning  we  were  greeted  by  a  furious  rain  which  con- 
tinued for  two  days  and  nights.  During  all  that  time  we  were 
kept  in  the  barns.  Sentinels  were  posted  to  allow  no  -one  to 
go  into  the  town ;  nevertheless,  some  of  the  men  succeeded  in 
obtaining  whiskey. 

On  the  morning  of  the  third  day  the  sun  was  shining  bright 
and  warm.  We  received  orders  to  "fall  in"  and  marched  down 
to  the  wharf  where  four  steamboats  were  awaiting  us.  One 
company  went  on  board  each  boat,  the  headquarters,  field  and 
staff  and  the  band  going  on  the  largest  boat  with  one  of  the 
companies.  The  boats  cast  off  at  intervals  of  about  a  half 
an  hour  each  and  got  under  way.  They  carried  no  other  pas- 
sengers. My  company  embarked  on  the  "Australia/*  which 
was  the  third  boat  in  the  line.  The  steamboats  were  of  the 
usual  style  of  light-draft  river  craft,  built  to  carry  freight  and 
passengers.  They  were  all  equipped  with  high  pressure  en- 
gines which  noisily  ejected  a  great  puff  of  steam  through  ex- 
haust pipes  on  the  top  deck  at  every  thrust  of  the  piston.  They 
were  sidewheelers  and  each  had  two  tall  smoke-stacks. 

On  each  side  of  the  foredeck  rested  the  butt  end  of  a  great 
spar,  hanging  forward  at  an  angle  and  secured  at  the  top  with 
tackle.  These  long  spars  were  used  in  working  the  boats  off 
sand  bars,  I  found  out  later. 

Freight  was  carried  on  these  boats  in  a  very  shallow  hold 
and  on  deck  behind  the  boilers,  which  were  located  well  for- 
ward. Above  the  boiler  deck  was  the  cabin  or  passenger  deck, 
containing  the  staterooms,  and  over  that,  the  "Texas"  or  hurri- 
can  deck,  on  which  was  the  pilot  house  in  front,  and  back  of 
that  the  officers'  cabins.  The  crew  was  provided  for  on  the 
boiler  deck.  The  construction  was  very  frail  above  the  boiler 
deck.  The  boats  shook  and  shivered  when  under  way,  and  as 

51 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

everything  was  constructed  of  light  joists  and  thin  boards,  the 
danger  of  fire  was  always  present. 

Our  boats  had  been  very  heavily  loaded  at  St.  Louis,  Mo., 
with  a  cargo  of  military  and  sutler's  stores  and  material  for 
portable  wooden  houses.  The  company  was  quartered  in  the 
forward  staterooms  on  the  cabin  deck,  two  to  each  room.  We 
found  the  rooms  stripped  of  every  article  of  bedding  and  fur- 
niture. Even  the  slats  in  the  bunks  had  been  taken  out,  and 
we  had  to  lie  on  our  blankets  on  the  floor.  For  our  morning 
ablutions  we  went  to  the  lower  deck  and  threw  overboard  a 
bucket  at  the  end  of  a  rope.  In  these  pails  of  muddy  Missouri 
River  water  we  washed  ourselves.  The  company  cooks  pre- 
pared our  meals  in  a  kitchen  on  the  lower  deck  and  we  ate 
them  wherever  we  could  find  room  to  squat  down  on  the  deck 
among  the  deckhands,  who  were  all  whites.  While  on  board 
we  got  no  fresh  bread  and  only  salt  meats.  The  boat's  crew, 
or  "roust-a-bouts,"  had  better  food  than  we,  plenty  of  it  and 
a  variety.  They  often  guyed  us  about  it,  but  we  had  the  laugh 
on  them  when  the  boat  landed  at  a  wood  pile  and  the  burly 
mate  chased  them  along  with  a  club  or  rope's  end  while  they 
loaded  cord  wood. 

We  drank  from  barrels  in  which  the  muddy  river  water  had 
stood  until  the  mud  had  settled.  It  became  fairly  clear,  when 
undisturbed  for  about  twelve  hours,  and  was  not  unpalatable. 

We  had  a  citizen  doctor  on  board,  hired  by  the  Government 
for  the  trip.  There  was  no  work  for  him  just  then,  but  when 
we  got  to  Fort  Leavenworth  he  was  kept  busy. 

On  leaving  Alton  we  went  down  the  Mississippi  to  its  junc- 
tion with  the  Missouri,  the  "Big  Muddy,"  where  we  could  see 
the  distinctly  marked  line  of  the  two  rivers  for  miles  before 
the  waters  seemed  to  blend.  The  water  of  the  Mississippi  was 
comparatively  clear  and  seemed  loath  to  mingle  with  that  of 
its  murky  companion.  The  Missouri  was  high  at  this  time, 
during  the  usual  June  rise.  The  current  was  strong,  and  our 
heavily  laden  boats  made  but  slow  progress.  This,  however, 
did  away  with  the  necessity  for  sounding  and  enabled  us  to 

52 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

run  at  night,  at  least  as  far  as  Fort  Leavenworth  or  further. 

Except  for  three  daily  roll  calls  I  had  nothing  to  do.  The 
weather  was  fine.  I  watched  the  engines  occasionally  but  spent 
most  of  the  day  sitting  in  the  front  of  the  cabin  deck  looking 
out  upon  the  mighty  river  whose  windings  disclosed  constant 
changes  of  scenery.  I  was  enchanted  with  it,  and  it  never  be- 
came monotonous  to  me.  Sometimes  a  steamer  carrying  many 
passengers  passed  us,  for  no  railroads  then  connected  any  of 
the  river  towns,  except  one  inland  from  St.  Louis  as  far  as 
Jefferson  City,  the  capitol  of  Missouri.  A  few  of  the  passen- 
ger boats  were  equipped  with  a  calliope,  or  steam  organ,  and 
would  play  old  plantation  melodies  on  approaching  or  depart- 
ing from  a  town.  To  hear  "Suwanee  River,"  "The  Old  Folks 
at  Home"  or  "Susannah"  reverberating  from  the  hills  on  a 
calm  summer's  evening  was  charming. 

There  were  not  many  towns  on  the  Missouri  in  1855;  the 
principal  ones  that  I  remember  were  St.  Charles,  Hermann, 
Jefferson  City,  Booneville,  Glasgow,  Kansas  City,  Leaven- 
worth  and  St.  Joseph,  which  was  then  about  the  end  of  civili- 
zation and  the  white  settlements.  Smaller  places,  not  yet  even 
named,  were  starting  up,  and  some  of  them  are  prosperous 
towns  now.  I  had  a  good  school  atlas  with  me  so  that  I  could 
locate  the  direction  of  the  river  and  its  principal  tributaries. 
It  proved  to  be  an  interesting  and  useful  companion,  giving  me 
general  information  about  the  country  and  the  distances  be- 
tween various  points. 

All  of  the  steamboats  used  cord  wood  for  fuel.  This  was 
supplied  from  wood  yards  along  the  river  as  far  north  as  the 
white  settlements  extended.  They  were  generally  located  in 
the  wilderness  far  away  from  any  town,  but  were  well  known 
to  the  pilots,  who,  when  running  short  of  wood,  would  sound  a 
warning  whistle  on  nearing  a  wood  yard,  which  would  bring 
out  of  the  woods  to  the  river  bank  a  bushy-whiskered,  matted- 
haired  individual  in  a  red  shirt,  with  one  suspender  holding  up 
his  corduroy  pants,  the  bottoms  of  which  were  thrust  into 
cowhide  boots. 

53 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.  S.  ARMY 

The  pilot  would  run  the  boat  close  in  to  shore  and  slacken 
speed  while  the  captain  opened  a  parley  with  the  man  in  the 
red  shirt  about  the  price  of  the  wood  per  cord  and  haggle  about 
it  until  a  bargain  was  made.  If  the  price  was  low  a  large  quan- 
tity would  be  shipped,  or  on  the  contrary,  only  enough  to  reach 
the  next  yard.  Occasionally  it  happened  that  the  captain 
would  not  take  any  fuel  at  the  price  offered  and  would  start 
away  to  take  his  chances  at  the  next  wood  pile,  if  he  was  sure 
he  had  enough  fuel  to  get  there. 

When  it  was  decided  to  take  in  wood,  the  boat  tied  up  to 
the  trees.  Two  gang  planks  run  out,  and  the  captain,  the  chief 
engineer  and  the  purser  of  the  boat  went  on  shore  and  in- 
spected and  measured  the  wood.  If  satisfactory,  they  gave 
the  word  to  the  mate,  who  had  his  crew  ready,  and  with  a 
shout  started  them  off  on  a  run.  Each  man  rushed  to  the  pile, 
grabbed  as  many  sticks  as  he  could  carry  and  ran  into  the  boat 
on  one  gangway  and  out  on  the  other.  The  mate,  in  the  mean- 
time, shouted  and  swore  at  them  on  the  run,  sometimes  giving 
a  slow  man  an  unfriendly  rap  over  the  shoulders,  to  hurry  him 
along.  This  was  kept  up  without  a  moment's  rest  until  all 
the  wood  wanted  was  on  board.  The  poor  devils  of  deck 
hands  and  firemen  were  exhausted  and  dripping  with  perspira- 
tion when  their  hard  task  was  over.  When  this  scene  was 
enacted  at  night  time  under  the  fitful  blaze  of  pitch-pine  burnt 
on  shore  in  iron  baskets,  it  had  a  weird,  unearthly  aspect. 

We  made  fair  progress,  without  delay  or  accident,  until  we 
were  within  a  few  miles  of  the  village  of  Booneville,  Mo.  It 
was  noon,  the  weather  was  beautiful  and  the  boat  was  making 
her  best  speed.  I  was  sitting  on  a  barrel  on  the  lower  deck 
forward,  and  had  just  finished  my  dinner  and  was  talking  to 
some  comrades,  when  suddenly  a  crashing  shock  threw  me 
down  to  the  deck  some  distance  away.  I  could  hear  the  tim- 
bers and  upper  wood  work  of  the  boat  crunching  and  strain- 
ing. I  looked  up  and  saw  the  two  tall  smoke  stacks  wabbling 
dangerously  and  straining  at  their  guys.  The  two  great  spars 
at  the  bow  of  the  boat  were  swinging  to  and  fro,  and  threat- 
ened to  fall  to  the  deck. 

54 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Finding  that  I  was  not  injured,  I  rushed  to  the  upper  deck 
and  looked  down  upon  the  scene  of  confusion  below.  There 
were  cries  of  "Snag!  Snag!"  that  dreaded  obstruction  to  river 
navigation  that  had  wrecked  so  many  steamboats.  In  a  mom- 
ent the  forward  lower  deck  was  crowded  with  hurrying  boat 
hands  and  shouting  officers.  A  hatchway  was  uncovered  and 
half  a  dozen  men  jumped  down  into  the  hold.  Mattresses  and 
blankets  were  dropped  to  them  with  which  they  tried  to  stop 
the  leak.  But  the  inrush  of  the  water  was  so  strong  that  their 
efforts  were  futile  and  in  less  than  five  minutes  they  scrambled 
hastily  on  deck. 

In  the  meantime,  the  pilot  tried  to  back  away  from  the  snag, 
but  the  boat  seemed  to  be  caught  in  a  trap.  Fortunately,  some 
one  now  gave  orders  to  draw  the  fires  and  to  blow  off  steam  to 
avoid  an  explosion  of  the  boilers.  The  roar  of  escaping  steam 
and  steady  shriek  of  the  big  whistle  added  to  the  excitement 
and  confusion.  The  soldiers'  wives  and  children  ran  about  the 
cabin  deck,  screaming  with  terror.  We  soldiers  were  made  to 
understand,  despite  the  noise,  that  we  were  to  take  the  life  pre- 
servers from  our  staterooms  and  assemble  on  the  hurricane 
deck.  This  was  promptly  done.  There  I  noticed  that  we  were 
seventy-five  to  a  hundred  yards  from  the  east  bank  of  the 
river,  with  no  habitation  nor  any  other  boat  in  sight. 

There  were  some  life  boats  on  this  deck  which  our  officers 
had  ordered  us  to  help  the  crew  to  launch  when  word  came 
that  this  would  not  be  necessary,  as  soundings  had  shown  that 
there  was  no  danger  of  the  boat  being  entirely  submerged.  This 
quieted  the  frightened  ones,  and  when  the  steam  had  about  es- 
caped from  the  boiler  and  the  noise  lessened,  we  were  ordered 
to  descend  to  the  cabin  deck  again  to  pack  our  knapsacks,  take 
our  arms  and  reassemble  on  the  upper  deck.  There  we  saw 
five  or  six  miles  down  the  river  the  steamboat,  Grey  Cloud 
with  company  A  on  board  hastening  to  our  assistance. 

During  all  this  time  the  boat  had  been  sinking  steadily,  but 
not  so  rapidly  as  I  expected.  We  could  plainly  hear  the  air 
pressure  in  the  hold  force  off  some  of  the  hatchway  covers  and 

55 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

noticed  a  hissing  sound  when  the  water  reached  the  still  hot 
boilers.  But  there  was  no  danger  of  explosion ;  the  steam  had 
been  let  off  just  in  time.  Occasionally  the  boat  gave  a  sudden 
lurch  and  listed  alarmingly  to  one  side  and  when  the  water 
had  entirely  submerged  the  boiler  deck  and  the  boat  began  to 
sink  more  rapidly,  we  laid  down  our  knapsacks  and  arms  and 
began  to  put  on  the  life  preservers,  as  we  feared  the  water 
would  lift  off  the  cabin  deck  and  float  us  out  into  the  river  to 
drown,  in  spite  of  the  assurance  that  the  river  at  this  point  was 
too  shallow  for  that  to  happen. 

We  watched  the  final  struggles  of  the  boat  filled  with  the 
fear  that  she  might  break  in  two.  Then  with  a  huge  straining 
and  a  terrifying  tremor  she  settled  on  the  bed  of  the  river.  Her 
bow  was  much  higher  than  the  stern,  she  had  a  strong  list 
away  from  shore  and  the  water  was  about  three  feet  below  the 
cabin  deck. 

I  have  no  clear  idea  as  to  the  time  that  elapsed  between  the 
striking  of  the  snag  and  the  grounding  of  the  battered  hull  on 
the  river  bottom.  But  I  know  that  the  Grey  Cloud,  which  we 
were  anxiously  watching,  drew  up  alongside  of  our  wreck 
about  an  hour  after  we  had  sighted  her,  and  took  us  on  board. 
No  one  was  lost  or  injured.  We  saved  the  company  books 
and  papers  and  our  own  private  property,  except  our  dress 
coats  and  uniform  hats,  which  had  been  packed  away  where 
we  could  not  get  at  them.  For  these  we  were  reimbursed  later 
on. 

The  sun  was  still  high  when  we  cast  off  aboard  the  Grey 
Cloud  and  started  up  the  river  again.  We  took  a  couple  of 
the  Australia's  officers  with  us  and  landed  them  at  Booneville, 
a  few  miles  away,  to  seek  help.  The  captain  and  crew  re- 
mained on  board  and  were  launching  one  of  the  life  boats  as 
we  left.  The  last  we  saw  of  the  wounded  steamboat  before  a 
bend  in  the  river  hid  her  forever  from  our  view,  was  her  upper 
deck,  with  her  paddle  boxes  and  smoke  stacks  sticking  out  of 
the  water.  We  learned  later  that  she  soon  went  to  pieces  and 
was  a  total  wreck. 

56 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Snags,  such  as  that  which  caused  us  so  much  trouble,  are 
trees  which  have  been  washed  away  by  freshets.  They  float 
down  the  river  and  the  largest  of  them  frequently  become 
fixed  with  the  heavy  butt  and  great  roots  fast  in  the  river's 
bed  where  they  are  held  until  one  of  the  constant  shif tings  of 
the  channel  releases  them.  The  branches  of  these  trees  in  time 
drop  off,  leaving  only  the  solid  trunk,  invisible  at  high  water. 
It  was  such  a  one  that  sunk  the  Australia.  We  saw  thou- 
sands of  snags  on  the  upper  Missouri  when  the  water  was  low. 
The  pilots  when  descending  the  river  pay  but  little  attention  to 
the  smaller  ones.  They  are  pointed  downstream  and  the  boats 
often  run  directly  over  them  without  any  injury  as  they  read- 
ily bend  under  the  impact. 

The  addition  of  my  company  crowded  the  Grey  Cloud.  We 
had  to  put  up  on  the  floor  of  the  saloon  for  a  few  days  until 
we  reached  Fort  Leavenworth,  where  we  disembarked  and 
were  to  remain  until  another  steamboat  could  be  loaded  and 
fitted  out  at  St.  Louis  to  take  us  up  the  river  to  Fort  Pierre. 
The  remainder  of  our  little  fleet  had  already  passed  on.  The 
soldiers'  wives  and  children  of  my  company  were  left  on  board 
with  Company  A,  fortunately  for  them.  Their  husbands, 
however,  were  ordered  to  disembark  and  serve  with  the  com- 
pany. 

It  was  in  the  early  forenoon  that  we  marched  up  the  steep 
hill  from  which  Fort  Leavenworth,  Kansas,  overlooked  the 
river.  We  were  assigned  to  quarters  in  an  old  two-story  build- 
ing close  to  some  vacant  cavalry  stables  on  the  western  side  of 
the  fort,  near  some  brush  and  woods.  Fort  Leavenworth  was 
an  old  frontier  post  and  its  buildings  were  dilapidated.  Its 
garrison  at  that  time  consisted  of  two  companies  of  cavalry 
and  a  large  number  of  unmounted  recruits  for  one  of  the  new 
cavalry  regiments  that  was  being  formed  there.  The  place 
was  crowded  and  the  cholera  was  raging.  The  hospital  had 
long  been  overcrowded  and  one  of  the  largest  barrack  build- 
ings was  also  used  as  a  hospital  where  the  sick  filled  both  of 
its  large  floors. 

57 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

We  had  not  been  there  many  days  before  the  dread  disease 
made  its  appearance  in  my  company  and  soon  we  had  a  dozen 
men  sick  of  it.  They  were  placed  on  straw  beds  on  the  floor 
of  one  of  the  old  stables  near  our  quarters,  which  had  been 
hastily  cleaned  up  for  the  purpose,  although  it  was  so  infested 
with  rats  that  they  ran  over  the  helpless  sick  even  in  the  day 
time.  There  were  no  conveniences  of  any  kind.  The  weather 
was  intensely  hot.  The  only  drinking  water  to  be  had  was 
brought  from  the  Missouri  River  in  barrels,  into  which  each 
one  dipped  his  tin  cup.  There  was  no  ice,  not  even  for  the 
sick,  and  medical  attendance  was  altogether  inadequate. 

After  a  day  or  two  of  illness  one  of  our  men  died  and  was 
soon  followed  by  another.  During  our  short  stay  the  com- 
pany lost  four  members,  as  well  as  Brevet  Second  Lieutenant 
Samuel  T.  Sheppard,  who  died  June  27,  1855.  He  was  as- 
signed to  duty  with  us  after  our  arrival.  Lieutenant  Shep- 
pard was  a  fine  young  officer  and  had  only  lately  been  grad- 
uated from  West  Point.  As  there  were  no  musicians  at  Fort 
Leavenworth  except  my  drummer  and  myself  and  a  few  bug- 
lers of  the  cavalry  companies,  we  two  were  ordered  to  attend 
all  the  funerals  to  play  the  "Dead  March,"  and  as  my  com- 
pany was  the  only  infantry  present,  they  furnished  the  escort 
for  the  recruits  who  died  in  the  hospitals.  During  our  stay  of 
about  three  weeks  I  cannot  recall  more  than  two  or  three  days 
without  a  funeral,  held  usually  in  the  morning,  but  often  fol- 
lowed by  another  in  the  afternoon  or  evening.  I  frequently 
saw  two  or  three  coffins  carried  at  one  time  in  the  two  horse, 
covered  delivery  wagon  which  did  duty  as  a  hearse. 

These  funerals  were  simple  affairs.  A  funeral  escort  of  a 
corporal,  eight  privates  and  my  drummer  and  myself  appeared 
at  one  of  the  hospitals  and  waited  until  the  coffin  or  coffins 
were  loaded  on  the  wagon.  Sometimes  we  were  kept  waiting 
rather  long,  while  the  corpses  were  being  placed  in  the  coffins, 
and  nailed  up  in  the  presence  of  the  sick  and  dying.  There 
was  no  dead  houses  or  separate  place  for  the  bodies ;  they  were 
left  lying  where  they  died  on  their  straw  beds  on  the  floor, 

58 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

simply  covered  with  a  blanket  until  the  time  for  the  next 
funeral. 

When  the  coffins  were  brought  out  the  escort  presented 
arms,  and  when  they  were  loaded  on  the  wagon,  the  corporal 
commanded,  "Shoulder  arms,  right  face,  reverse  arms,  for- 
ward march."  Then  we  marched  off  in  slow  time,  playing  the 
solemn  "Dead  March,"  which  could  be  plainly  heard  by  the 
unfortunate  patients  in  the  hospital.  We  continued  the  slow 
march  and  music,  until  a  short  distance  outside  of  the  fort, 
when  we  ceased  playing,  and  marched  at  the  "Route  Step,"  un- 
til we  entered  the  cemetery,  which  was  more  than  a  mile  away. 
There  we  resumed  the  slow  step  and  doleful  music,  until  we  ar- 
rived at  the  grave.  The  coffin  was  lowered  without  any  fur- 
ther ceremony,  except  the  firing  of  three  rounds  of  blank  cart- 
ridges by  the  escort,  across  the  grave.  We  then  marched  back 
to  the  garrison,  while  the  grave  diggers  filled  in  the  earth  on 
top  of  the  coffin. 

One  morning,  while  waiting  at  the  temporary  hospital  on 
our  usual  sad  duty,  I  was  seized  by  a  strong  desire  to  see  with 
my  own  eyes  the  awful  conditions  in  the  building,  of  which  I 
had  heard  much.  I  entered  the  hallway  and  passed  through  a 
wide  open  door  into  a  large  barrack  room.  On  the  two  long 
sides  of  the  room,  lying  on  the  floor  upon  bedsacks  stuffed 
with  straw,  were  about  three  dozen  men  in  all  stages  of  the 
terrible  disease.  Some  were  unconscious  of  their  surround- 
ings ;  their  features  had  turned  to  a  bluish  black  color.  Flies 
in  great  numbers  swarmed  around  them,  and  settled  on  their 
open  lips  and  staring  eyes.  Others,  in  the  earlier  stages,  feebly 
tried  to  free  themselves  from  these  pests.  The  doors  and  win- 
dows were  all  open,  but  the  heat  and  stench  were  terrible. 
There  was  no  furniture  in  the  room,  except  a  table  for  medi- 
cines, and  a  few  chairs  for  the  soldier-nurses. 

Two  rude  oblong  boxes  rested  on  the  floor  near  the  door. 
They  were  of  pine,  and  not  even  stained  any  color.  Into  these 
two  almost  nude  bodies  of  men  who  had  died  during  the  night 
were  being  placed  or  packed — literally  packed,  for  one  of  the 

59 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

bodies  was  that  of  a  very  large  man  for  whom  the  coffin  was 
too  short.  When  his  head  and  feet  were  in,  his  chest  bulged 
up,  which  made  it  necessary  for  one  of  the  attendants  to  sit  on 
the  cover  while  it  was  being  nailed  down.  All  this  was  done  in 
plain  view  of  the  patients.  What  a  sight  for  those  who  were 
conscious !  What  must  have  been  the  thoughts  and  feeling  of 
the  unfortunate  sufferers? 

I  turned  with  horror  and  indignation  from  the  room,  sick- 
ened and  shuddering  at  the  sight  I  had  seen.  What  should  be 
said  of  the  commander  of  the  post,  an  officer  of  high  rank? 
And  what  of  the  chief  medical  officer?  They  permitted  this 
brutal  and  inhuman  treatment  of  the  sick  to  continue,  while 
there  was  plenty  of  space  and  tents  to  shelter  the  stricken,  to 
separate  the  convalescent  from  the  sick  and  to  remove  the  dead 
from  their  proximity? 

I  am  aware  that  medical  science,  at  that  time,  knew  but  little 
concerning  either  the  prevention  or  cure  of  cholera,  but  at 
Fort  Leavenworth  absolutely  nothing  was  done  to  prevent  the 
disease  from  becoming  epidemic.  No  orders,  caution  or  in- 
structions were  ever  given  to  us  in  regard  to  it,  and  it  was  lef4 
to  each  man  to  guard  himself  as  his  intelligence  might  dictate. 

The  afflicted  of  my  company  fared  a  little  better  than  the 
poor  recruits.  They  were  not  crowded,  and  our  little  fat  citi- 
zen doctor  did  his  duty  conscientiously.  After  about  two  weeks 
no  more  new  cases  developed  in  my  company,  and  those  still 
under  his  care  were  convalescent. 

There  was  a  man  in  the  company  at  this  time,  who  claimed 
to  know  of  an  infallible  preventative  of  cholera.  Before  en- 
listing he  had  worked  in  some  of  the  Mississippi  river  towns, 
as  far  south  as  New  Orleans,  where  cholera  and  yellow  fever 
were  prevalent.  He  claimed  to  have  acquired  his  knowledge 
from  an  old  negro  doctor.  He  said  all  he  needed  was  a  gallon 
of  whiskey,  and  he  could  furnish  the  rest  of  the  required  in- 
gredients. He  talked  so  much  and  so  earnestly  about  this,  that 
he  finally  persuaded  another  and  myself  to  put  up  the  money 
for  the  liquor,  as  he  had  none  himself.  He  went  down  to 

60 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Leavenworth  City,  a  few  miles  away,  and  bought  a  gallon  demi- 
john of  corn  whiskey,  which  he  secretly  carried  into  the  woods 
back  of  our  quarters.  Then  he  dug  up  some  roots.  These, 
with  some  bark,  he  cut  up  and  put  into  the  whiskey.  After 
digging  a  hole  among  the  bushes  deep  enough  to  hold  the  demi- 
john, he  concealed  it  with  brush-wood. 

Every  morning  between  reveille  and  breakfast,  we  sneaked 
away  to  the  woods  by  divers  routes.  Careful  to  be  unobserved 
we  pulled  out  the  demijohn  and  each  took  a  drink  of  the  mix- 
ture. It  was  vile  and  strong  stuff.  One  of  the  ingredients,  I 
think,  was  sassafras,  but  I  do  not  know  what  else  it  contained, 
for  we  were  never  told.  We  did  this  regularly  every  morning 
during  our  stay.  I  do  not  know  whether  the  stuff  had  any  real 
merit,  but  none  of  our  syndicate  had  any  symptom  of  the  dis- 
ease, and  we  succeeded  in  keeping  our  cache  a  secret. 

After  we  had  been  at  Fort  Leavenworth  about  three  weeks, 
we  received  the  heartening  news  one  morning  that  the  steam- 
boat Genoa  had  arrived  from  St.  Louis,  and  was  ready  to  take 
us  aboard.  We  embarked  in  the  afternoon,  and  at  once  started 
up  the  river.  It  was  on  the  third  day  of  July,  a  date  impressed 
on  my  memory  by  the  joy  of  getting  away  from  a  pestilential 
place,  and  the  fact  that  we  hoisted  the  United  States  flag  and 
fired  a  salute  at  noon  next  day,  with  the  little  one-pounder  can- 
non on  board  of  the  boat. 

The  Genoa  was  almost  a  duplicate  of  the  Australia,  on  which 
we  had  been  sunk  near  Booneville.  Our  accommodations  were 
about  the  same,  except  that  the  slats  had  been  generously  left 
in  the  berths,  so  that  we  did  not  have  to  lie  on  the  floor.  I  had 
my  first  view  of  Indians  a  short  distance  above  Leavenworth. 
They  belonged  to  the  Kickapoo  tribe  and  did  not  impress  me 
much.  There  were  half  a  dozen  of  them  loafing  around  a  wood 
pile  where  we  had  stopped.  They  looked  sad  and  lazy  and 
begged  for  tobacco.  They  lived  near  the  white  settlements, 
and  appeared  to  have  degenerated  by  contact  with  the  whites. 

The  June  rise  of  the  river  was  over,  and  the  water  was  much 
lower ;  we  could  no  longer  run  in  the  night,  but  tied  up  at  the 

61 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

river  bank  as  soon  as  darkness  fell.  In  a  few  days  we  passed 
St.  Joseph,  Mo.,  which,  save  for  a  few  small  settlements  a  lit- 
tle further  on,  marked  the  end  of  civilization.  Council  Bluff, 
Omaha,  Nebraska  City,  Sioux  City,  and  others,  had  no  exist- 
ence as  yet.  St.  Joseph  was  one  of  the  starting  points  for  emi- 
grants, who  went  to  Utah  and  overland  to  California.  It  was 
also  the  place  of  departure  on  the  Missouri  from  the  United 
States  Mail  Route  and  the  Pony  Express. 

We  had  not  yet  seen  the  last  of  the  cholera.  A  sergeant  of 
my  company  was  stricken,  on  the  second  day  out  from  Leaven- 
worth,  and  was  immediately  isolated  on  the  lower  deck  of  the 
boat.  Fortunately,  it  proved  to  be  a  mild  case,  and  under  the 
doctor's  care  he  recovered  in  a  short  time.  This  case  was  the 
last  we  had. 

At  this  time  I  shared  my  cabin  with  Corporal  Clifford  of  my 
company,  who  was  my  bunkie.  We  had  been  on  the  river  but 
a  few  days,  when  one  night  while  I  was  preparing  to  lie  down 
in  my  bunk,  after  tattoo  roll  call,  he  told  me  he  was  going  down 
to  the  lower  deck  and  would  be  back  directly.  When  he  failed 
to  return  within  a  reasonable  time,  I  reported  his  absence  to 
the  first  sergeant.  A  thorough  search  of  the  boat  and  the  shore 
revealed  no  trace  of  him.  It  was  concluded  that  he  had  fallen 
overboard  and  drowned,  though  no  outcry  had  been  heard. 
Some  months  later  we  read  in  a  newspaper  of  the  finding  of 
a  soldier's  body  in  the  river,  away  down  near  Kansas  City.  The 
description  seemed  to  fit  Corporal  Clifford.  Everyone  liked 
him  and  his  loss  was  deeply  felt. 

The  captain  of  the  Genoa  was  named  Throckmorton,  an  ex- 
perienced Western  riverman.  He  had  his  son  with  him,  a  lad 
about  my  age,  with  whom  I  spent  a  good  deal  of  time.  The 
boy  had  a  shot  gun,  and  once  or  twice  he  took  me  with  him 
shooting  birds  and  small  game  on  shore,  while  the  boat  laid  up 
for  wood. 

There  were  no  wood  yards  beyond  St.  Joseph,  and  we  en- 
countered no  more  steamboats,  except  those  which  had  taken 
Companies  A,  G  and  I  to  Fort  Pierre,  and  were  now  return- 

62 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

ing  laden  with  furs.  When  wood  ran  short,  the  boat  made  a 
landing  at  a  suitable  place,  and  all  the  firemen  and  deck  hands 
went  on  shore  to  cut  down  trees  and  chop  them  up  to  cord- 
wood  size.  A  quantity  of  logs  were  also  taken  on  board  to  be 
sawed  and  split  on  deck,  while  the  boat  was  under  way.  This 
saved  time,  for  the  "wooding  up"  of  the  boat  consumed  many 
hours,  and  had  to  be  repeated  every  few  days.  The  wood  was 
of  poor  quality,  mostly  cotton  wood,  and  of  course,  very  green 
for  firing.  Some  of  the  soldiers  voluntarily  assisted  at  the 
wood  chopping,  tempted  no  doubt  by  the  small  pay  per  hour, 
and  a  drink  of  whiskey,  which  was  also  served  to  all  the  boat 
hands. 

Navigation  became  more  difficult  as  we  slowly  advanced  up 
the  tortuous  stream  which  often  seemed  to  double  on  itself.  At 
times  we  were  heading  south  instead  of  north,  and  appeared  to 
be  going  down  the  river  instead  of  up. 

It  was  the  mid-summer  period  of  low  water  in  the  Missouri, 
and  no  improvement  could  be  expected  before  the  fall  rains. 
There  was  no  well  defined  channel,  for  the  erratic  river  was 
constantly  changing  its  course.  Islands  that  had  existed  the 
previous  year  were  washed  away  by  the  spring  floods,  or  so 
changed  in  contour  as  to  be  unrecognizable.  New  islands  were 
formed,  and  soon  covered  with  a  growth  of  willows  and  brush. 
Land  was  washed  away  from  shores  and  added  in  other  places. 
No  reliable  chart  of  the  upper  river  existed.  The  pilot  was 
guided  only  by  his  own  judgment  of  the  current,  the  appear- 
ance of  the  water,  the  visible  sand  bars,  and  the  numerous 
snags  that  showed  their  branches  above  the  water's  level. 

Appearances  were  sometimes  deceptive  and  caused  the  pilot 
to  run  the  boat  up  on  the  wrong  side  of  a  long  island,  only  to 
find  that  the  channel  was  too  narrow  to  get  through  or  too 
much  obstructed  by  snags.  He  would  then  have  to  back  out 
and  run  back  for  miles  in  order  to  try  the  other  side  of  the 
island.  Many  times  each  day  we  heard  the  pilot's  single  toll 
of  the  bell  on  the  forward  deck.  This  was  the  signal  to  take 
soundings  on  the  starboard  side,  and  was  usually  followed  by 

63 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

his  ring  to  the  engine  room  to  slacken  speed.  A  man  would 
commence  to  "heave-the-lead"  attached  to  a  line,  that  had 
marks  in  various  colors  at  intervals,  to  indicate  the  depth  of 
water.  He  would  cry  out  measurements,  such  as  "No  bot- 
tom, mark- twain,  half -twain,  quarterless-twain,  six  feet,  five 
feet,"  then  perhaps  suddenly  "Nine  feet,"  or  "Three  feet," 
when  we  could  feel  the  boat  slide  onto  a  sand  bar,  if  the  pilot 
had  not  reversed  the  engines  in  time.  Soundings  were  some- 
times taken  in  a  row  boat  at  some  distance  away. 

We  frequently  ran  onto  sand  bars  lightly,  and  managed  to 
get  off  by  reversing  the  paddle-wheels,  but  often  it  took  many 
hours  or  several  days  to  float  the  boat  again.  When  it  was 
found  that  the  steamer  was  hard  and  fast,  the  great  spars  car- 
ried forward  were  brought  into  use.  The  butt  end  of  one  of 
the  spars  was  lowered  over  the  side  into  the  water  well  for- 
ward. It  sunk  firmly  into  the  sandy  bottom  by  its  own  weight. 
A  double  set  of  strong  pulley  blocks,  attached  to  the  top  of  the 
spar,  were  connected  by  a  cable  which  wound  around  the  drum 
of  a  powerful  capstan  on  the  forward  deck.  The  capstan  bars 
were  manned  by  as  many  of  the  deck  hands  as  could  find  room. 
Then  they  began  turning,  very  slowly  after  the  strain  was  on, 
going  around  in  a  circle  and  keeping  up  a  kind  of  a  chant,  such 
as  sailors  often  sing  on  ships  when  raising  the  anchor  by  hand. 
It  was  exhausting  labor,  but  the  soldiers  often  volunteered  to 
help. 

By  this  operation  a  part  of  the  boat  was  practically  lifted, 
and  by  placing  the  spar  at  the  proper  inclination,  it  was  also 
sheered  away  from  the  bar  at  the  same  time.  Progress  seemed 
to  be  made  by  inches.  Many  times  the  spar  had  to  be  lifted 
and  reset  in  a  new  position,  and  often  a  portion  of  the  deck 
freight  had  to  be  shifted  before  the  boat  could  be  freed.  Dur- 
ing all  this  time  the  sand  in  the  river  kept  on  drifting  against 
the  boat  and  added  to  the  difficulty.  If  the  boat  ran  into  a  bar 
near  the  shore,  where  a  cable  could  be  fastened  to  trees,  we 
could  get  off  again  with  much  less  trouble,  and  without  the 
nse  of  the  spars. 

64 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

We  proceeded  in  this  laborious  way,  until  we  were  fifty 
miles  or  more  north  of  where  Sioux  City  is  now  located. 
There  a  series  of  very  bad  turns  in  the  river  made  Captain 
Throckmorton  decide  that  the  Genoa  was  too  heavily  laden 
to  pass,  and  that  at  least  one-half  of  her  freight  must  be 
put  on  shore.  A  place  deemed  suitable  was  selected  on  the 
east  bank  of  the  river,  and  the  unloading  was  commenced. 
The  freight  consisting  of  all  manner  of  commissary,  quarter- 
master and  sutler's  stores.  It  was  put  ashore  on  skids  by  the 
deck  hands  and  piled  up  under  tarpaulins. 

The  company  went  on  shore,  including  the  citizen  doctor, 
and  put  up  so-called  "A"  tents,  which  we  found  among  the 
quartermaster's  stores.  Thus  we  established  a  camp,  where 
extra  ammunition  and  other  necessaries  were  provided.  A 
guard  of  a  half  a  dozen  men  under  a  corporal  remained  on 
board,  and  the  Genoa  resumed  her  journey  towards  Fort 
Pierre,  a  few  hundred  miles  away.  But,  when  something  more 
than  half  way  there,  and  just  below  the  upper  "Big  Bend," 
the  captain  unloaded  another  part  of  his  freight  and  left  it 
on  shore  without  any  guards. 

Along  the  entire  distance  from  St.  Joseph  to  "Camp  Gard- 
ner," our  destination,  which  the  soldiers  named  after  our  cap- 
tain, we  saw  no  indications  of  white  settlements,  except  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Big  Sioux  River,  a  few  miles  north  of  the 
site  where  Sioux  City  was  founded  the  following  year.  There, 
as  we  passed,  we  noticed  some  white  men  erecting  a  saw-mill. 
They  ran  down  to  the  river  bank  and  motioned  to  us  to  stop, 
but  we  kept  on  our  course.  We  saw  no  Indians,  for,  according 
to  their  custom,  they  had  departed  in  the  spring  to  hunt  buf- 
falo and  other  game  on  the  plains  and  would  not  return  to 
the  river  until  late  in  the  fall. 

We  saw  a  few  herds  of  buffalo  grazing  on  the  prairies  some 
miles  away  from  the  river.  But  when  they  became  aware  of 
the  steamer,  they  rushed  away,  and  soon  disappeared  from 
sight. 

We  were  greatly  annoyed  by  mosquitoes  at  night.     So  per- 

65 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

sistent  were  these  pests  on  a  few  occasions  that  men  from 
the  company  were  detailed  to  remain  on  shore  all  night  and 
tend  small  fires  whose  smoke  enveloped  the  boat. 

One  night  there  was  an  alarm  of  Indians.  The  sentinel 
on  shore  reported  to  the  corporal  of  the  guard  that  he  had 
seen  moving  lights  some  distance  away,  that  appeared  to  be 
signals.  The  company  was  quietly  called  under  arms,  and 
the  lights  on  the  boat  extinguished.  We  remained  on  the  alert 
until  daylight,  but  nothing  happened.  It  seemed  to  have  been 
a  false  alarm. 

While  at  Leaven  worth,  a  married  soldier  had  joined  our 
company,  and  he  and  his  wife  went  up  the  river  with  us.  She 
was  the  only  woman  on  board.  A  girl  baby  was  born  to  her 
before  we  reached  Camp  Gardner,  and  it  was  named  Genoa 
Harrison,  after  the  steamer. 

We  had  not  been  more  than  a  week  on  the  river,  when  I 
became  very  ill  and  had  to  take  to  my  berth.  I  had  not  felt 
well  for  some  days,  and  now  had  a  throbbing  headache  and  a 
high  fever,  being  part  of  the  time  delirious.  I  was  furnished 
with  a  mattress  to  lie  on,  and  a  man  was  detailed  to  wait  on 
me.  The  doctor  was  very  attentive,  and  managed  to  pull  me 
through.  When  I  got  so  that  I  began  to  eat  a  little,  the  doctor 
got  Captain  Throckmorton's  permission  to  have  my  meals 
served  from  the  cabin  table.  They  were  brought  to  me  by  the 
captain's  colored  boy,  who  served  me  cheerfully.  He  was  a 
happy,  grinning  young  darky,  about  my  own  age,  and  so  black 
that  the  soldiers  said  charcoal  would  make  a  white  mark  on 
him.  I  had  no  money  to  reward  him,  but  when  we  got  to  the 
end  of  our  journey,  I  gave  him  one  of  my  jackets  and  a 
soldier's  cap,  which  made  him  very  proud  and  happy.  As  for 
the  doctor,  I  remember  him  most  gratefully ;  but  I  never  saw 
him  nor  heard  of  him  again,  after  he  left  us.  I  was  able  to 
be  up  about  a  week  before  we  got  to  Camp  Gardner,  and  was 
convalescent,  but  still  weak.  I  suppose  now  that  I  had  typhoid 
fever,  although  the  doctor  did  not  tell  me  so  at  the  time. 

It  was  about  a  month  after  we  had  left  Leavenworth  that 

66 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

we  encamped,  and  in  all  that  time  we  had  accomplished  less 
than  five  hundred  miles.  The  camp  was  on  a  knoll  close  to 
a  ravine,  in  which  were  some  trees  and  bushes.  The  country 
round  about  was  hilly,  and  without  any  woods.  I  think  the 
captain  chose  the  position  as  one  of  good  defense  against 
Indians,  in  case  our  rich  booty  of  freight  should  tempt  them 
to  attack  us.  We  never  saw  an  Indian  while  there,  but  sen- 
tinels were  posted  in  the  day  time,  where  they  could  overlook 
much  of  the  country,  and  were  withdrawn  nearer  to  the  camp 
at  night. 

It  was  August  and  the  weather  was  intensely  hot.  To  es- 
cape the  sun  we  spent  much  time  in  the  shady  ravine.  We 
also  went  swimming  often,  and  fished  for  cat-fish  in  the  Mis- 
souri. Rattlesnakes,  which  were  numerous,  were  a  cause  for 
anxiety,  but  we  escaped  being  stung  by  them  and  killed  many. 

It  was  at  Camp  Gardner  that  we  first  made  use  of  some  of 
the  mechanical  talent  of  my  company.  A  couple  of  masons 
built  a  bake-oven,  near  the  river  bank,  out  of  stones  found 
there.  It  had  a  stone  bed  and  was  regularly  arched  on  a 
wooden  center  made  of  barrel  staves,  and  was  provided  with 
a  smoke  flue.  The  builders  had  no  lime  or  cement,  so  they 
covered  it  all  over,  about  a  foot  thick,  with  earth  and  sods. 
It  worked  well,  and  in  a  few  days  a  practical  baker  of  the 
company  made  such  good  use  of  it  that  we  all  had  bread  which 
tasted  delicious  after  eating  "hardtack"  for  a  month.  We 
had  plenty  of  flour,  but  I  do  not  know  how  he  made  yeast. 
Perhaps  that  was  found  in  the  shape  of  powders  among  the 
sutler's  stores. 

Tobacco  had  become  very  scarce  among  the  men.  Some 
of  them  smoked  tea,  coffee  or  dried  leaves,  until  the  captain, 
who,  I  think  wanted  some  himself,  authorized  the  first  ser- 
geant to  search  the  sutler's  stores  in  the  freight  pile  Boxes 
of  plug  tobacco  were  found,  and  a  plentiful  supply  was  dis- 
tributed, for  which  the  sutler  was  reimbursed.  Later  on  we 
learned  to  make  use  of  the  Indian's  substitute  for  tobacco, 
when  in  want  of  it. 

67 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

We  had  been  without  any  fresh  meat  or  vegetables,  since 
we  left  Leavenworth,  but  at  Camp  Gardner  we  caught  plenty 
of  large  catfish,  of  which  our  cooks  made  a  very  palatable 
chowder.  It  was  an  agreeable  change  of  diet.  In  some  of 
the  ravines  we  found  quantities  of  wild  plums,  smaller  than 
the  domestic  fruit,  and  yellow,  but  fairly  sweet  and  deliciously 
flavored.  There  were  also  plenty  of  wild  grapes,  but  not  yet 
ripe  enough  to  eat.  We  had  an  easy  time  in  camp,  performing 
no  duties  except  guard.  A  stone  cutter  among  the  soldiers 
wiled  away  part  of  his  spare  time  carving  deeply  into  the  soft 
rock  face  of  a  cliff  on  the  river's  edge :  "Camp  Gardner,  Au- 
gust, 1855.  Here  was  caught  a  fifty-pound  catfish  by  John 
O'Meara,  Company  D,  Second  U.  S.  Infantry,"  The  man  who 
caught  this  great  fish  was  henceforth  called  "Catfish 
O'Meara." 

After  nearly  three  weeks,  the  Genoa  returned  from  Fort 
Pierre.  The  freight  was  reloaded  and  Camp  Gardner  aban- 
doned. The  company's  baker  baked  an  extra  supply  of  "soft 
bread,"  which  we  took  with  us  when  we  resumed  our  slow, 
monotonous  journey  up  the  river. 

Evenings,  when  the  mosquitoes  were  not  too  numerous, 
we  gathered  at  the  bow  of  the  boat  and  sang  songs  to  the 
music  of  a  mouth  harmonica,  which  one  of  the  soldiers  played, 
or  told  stories  and  tried  to  be  cheerful.  But  we  were  again 
overtaken  by  a  calamity,  about  the  third  day  after  leaving 
camp. 

The  boat  was  tied  up  to  get  fuel  one  afternoon,  and  some 
of  the  soldiers  took  a  swim  in  the  river. 

A  sergeant  named  Schott,  a  strong,  athletic  young  man  and 
a  good  swimmer,  took  a  dive  from  the  shore  into  the  river,  at 
a  point  about  two  hundred  feet  ahead  of  the  boat,  and  in 
plain  view  of  many  on  deck.  We  saw  one  of  his  hands  ap- 
pear above  the  water  twice,  near  the  place  he  went  in.  But, 
as  the  minutes  passed,  his  head  did  not  appear,  and  we  gave 
the  alarm.  By  the  time  the  place  was  reached,  there  was  no 
longer  any  hope  of  rescue.  Some  hours  were  spent  in  grap- 

68 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

pling  for  the  body  unsuccessfully.  The  small  cannon  was 
brought  on  shore,  and  fired  over  the  place  where  he  was  last 
seen,  a  half-dozen  times ;  but  it  failed  to  raise  the  body,  which 
was  never  recovered.  This  event  cast  a  shadow  of  gloom  over 
us.  It  was  the  second  case  of  death  by  drowning  since  we 
had  been  on  the  Genoa. 

The  river  was  now  at  its  lowest.  The  summer  had  been 
unusually  dry,  and  when  we  got  to  the  mouth  of  the  L/Eau 
qui  Court  River,  now  called  the  Niabrara  River,  it  was  found 
to  have  formed  a  sand  bar  across  the  Missouri.  This  new 
barrier  made  a  lot  of  trouble,  although  we  had  only  half  a 
load  of  freight.  So,  when  Captain  Throckmorton  reached 
the  place  just  below  the  Big  Bend,  on  the  way  up,  where  he 
had  left  a  part  of  his  freight,  consisting  of  a  lot  of  barrels  of 
salt  pork,  he  decided  that  he  could  not  make  his  way  through 
the  Bend.  The  freight  was  once  more  divided,  and  we  went 
into  camp  on  the  east  side  of  the  river,  while  the  boat  steamed 
on  to  Fort  Pierre  again. 

This  camp  was  named  "Camp  O'Connell",  after  our  lieu- 
tenant. It  was  in  the  woods,  where  we  were  sheltered  from 
the  hot  sun,  but  we  found  the  ground  rather  damp.  We 
cleared  away  the  underbrush  and  covered  the  floors  of  our 
tents  with  brushwood  and  leaves.  When  this  did  not  keep 
out  the  moisture,  we  built  bunks  about  a  foot  high.  We  did 
not  build  a  bake  oven  this  time,  as  we  expected  the  boat  to 
return  in  a  week.  We  were  now  only  about  one  hundred  miles 
from  the  end  of  our  journey.  By  this  time  we  had  become 
more  indifferent  about  Indians,  as  we  had  encountered  none  at 
Camp  Gardner,  and  wandered  further  from  camp,  in  small 
squads,  always  taking  our  rifles  and  ammunition.  A  few 
men  got  permission  to  go  hunting.  One  of  them  shot  a  small 
deer,  but  they  had  little  success  with  rifles  on  small  game  and 
prairie  hens. 

One  day  some  of  the  men  discovered  a  large  cornfield  in 
the  bottom  land  near  the  river.  The  stalks  were  tall  enough 
to  hide  a  man  on  horseback,  but  there  were  many  weeds.  The 

69 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

cars  of  corn  seemed  as  large  as  a  man's  forearm,  and  were 
just  about  ripe  enough  to  eat  on  the  cob.  Next  day  I  was 
one  of  a  party  that  brought  a  kettle  from  camp,  and  we  boiled 
corn  on  the  river  bank.  For  a  few  days  we  had  a  daily  feast 
of  this  delicious  corn.  Many  of  the  ears  were  red  or  blue  or 
mixed  in  color.  We  did  not  let  the  officers  know  about  our 
find,  fearing  they  would  forbid  us  to  take  any  of  it.  We 
learned  later  that  this  corn  belonged  to  some  of  the  Yankton 
tribe,  whose  squaws  had  planted  it  in  the  spring  before  the 
Indians  started  on  their  summer  buffalo  hunt.  No  care  was 
taken  of  it,  but  it  grew  to  immense  size  in  the  rich  soil,  despite 
the  weeds.  On  their  return,  late  in  the  fall,  the  Yanktons 
gathered  it. 

In  about  a  week  the  Genoa  returned,  and  once  more  we  re- 
embarked.  In  taking  down  our  tents,  it  was  found  that  some 
snakes  had  lodged  in  the  brush  and  leaves  under  some  of  the 
low  bunks,  and  it  made  some  of  the  occupants  turn  pale  on 
learning  that  they  had  peacefully  slept  so  close  to  the  danger- 
ous reptiles.  As  the  boat  now  carried  only  about  one  quarter 
of  the  amount  of  freight  she  had  started  with,  we  made  better 
progress,  and  were  only  delayed  by  frequent  soundings.  I 
think  we  reached  Fort  Pierre  on  the  morning  of  the  fourth 
day  from  Camp  O'Connell,  about  the  middle  of  September, 
1855,  just  fifty-one  years  since  the  Lewis  and  Clark  expedition 
had  passed  that  way  on  its  long  journey  across  the  continent. 

As  I  look  back  over  this  long,  weary  and  unfortunate  jour- 
ney, I  realize  that  it  took  about  three  and  a  half  months  to  go 
from  Carlisle,  Pa.,  to  Fort  Pierre,  Nebraska  Territory.  Of 
this  time,  we  were  more  than  seven  weeks  on  the  Missouri 
River,  and  it  had  cost  the  company  seven  lives — one  officer 
and  four  privates,  by  cholera,  and  two  non-commissioned 
officers,  by  drowning — a  rather  mournful  remembrance  for 
this  early  period  of  my  service. 


70 


PART  IV. 
FORT  PIERRE  AND  THE  Sioux  INDIANS,  1855-1856. 

FORT  Pierre,  situated  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Missouri 
River,  about  fifteen  hundred  miles  above  St.  Louis,  Mo., 
was  an  old  trading  post  belonging  to  the  American 
Fur  Co.,  which  also  had  another  post  or  two  higher  up  the 
river  and  one  on  the  Yellowstone  River.  Fort  Pierre  was  the 
headquarters.  It  was  a  stockade  structure,  built  of  split  logs 
firmly  set  in  the  ground  and  twenty  feet  or  more  in  height. 
There  were  sheltered  and  protected  turrets  at  the  corners  on 
top,  which  afforded  a  look-out  over  a  large  area  of  flat  coun- 
try. The  fort  set  back  a  short  distance  from  the  bank  and 
had  a  large  gate  on  the  river  side.  There  were  also  one  or 
two  smaller  gates.  The  stockade  enclosed  a  square  space,  con- 
taining several  well  built  log  houses  for  the  traders,  trappers, 
hunters  and  others.  There  were  also  storehouses  and  a  cen- 
tral vacant  space  of  considerable  size  within  the  barrier.  The 
fort  was  built  in  1832  by  Pierre  Chouteau,  Jr.,  and  recently 
sold  to  the  Government. 

The  stockade  was  built  on  high  bottom  land,  well  placed  for 
defense  against  the  Indians.  The  prospect  was  uninterrupted 
for  miles  up  or  down  the  river,  and  to  the  west  the  land  was 
level  and  bare  for  some  miles  to  the  foot-hills.  To  the  east 
was  the  Missouri  with  a  large  island  opposite  the  fort  and  hilly 
land  on  the  other  side  of  the  river.  To  the  north,  on  the  bank 
of  the  river,  less  than  half  a  mile  away,  there  was  an  Indian 
settlement  of  about  twenty-five  lodges.  It  was  there  that  the 
Indians  who  came  to  trade  usually  camped.  The  sur- 
roundings were  bleak  and  dreary  to  the  extreme.  One  saw 
nothing  but  prairie  or  a  few  stunted  bushes  in  some  shallow 

71 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

ravines  near  the  river.  Wood  for  fuel  had  to  be  hauled  a  long 
distance. 

We  found  here  the  three  companies  that  had  preceded  us, 
also  companies  "B"  and  "C"  of  my  regiment  who  ha/ marched 
across  the  country  from  Fort  Ridgely,  Minnesota  Territory. 
They  were  the  first  soldiers  that  had  ever  been  stationed  in  that 
part  of  the  country.  They  brought  a  herd  of  beef  cattle  and 
mules  in  charge  of  herders,  who  had  managed  to  get  them 
there  during  the  summer  season  with  small  loss. 

During  the  six  weeks  or  more  that  these  five  companies 
had  preceded  us,  they  had  been  very  busy  setting  up  the  port- 
able houses  that  had  been  brought  up  on  the  steamers.  These 
houses  were  placed  a  short  distance  behind  the  stockade, 
around  three  sides  of  a  large  parallelogram,  forming  the 
parade  ground — officers'  houses  on  one  side,  company  quarters 
opposite  and  other  houses  on  one  end.  The  necessary  store 
houses  were  erected  on  the  river  front.  The  company  houses 
were  intended  to  hold  half  a  company  each  without  crowding. 
We  moved  into  two  of  them  on  our  arrival  and  had  a  little 
less  than  thirty  men  in  each  house.  They  were  single-story 
affairs  with  but  one  room  and  of  the  flimsiest  wood  construc- 
tion. The  sills  and  floor  beams  were  entirely  too  light  for  the 
live  weight  to  be  carried,  the  upright  studding  was  about  three 
by  two  inches,  grooved  on  two  sides  to  receive  panels  made 
of  three-quarter  inch  boards,  which  was  all  the  protection 
there  was  against  the  intense  winter  cold  of  that  latitude. 
There  was  no  interior  finish  of  any  kind.  The  roof  was  of 
thin  boards  covered  with  tarred  paper  and  had  a  low  pitch 
from  a  ridge  to  the  sides.  The  houses  were  set  on  wooden 
posts  about  two  feet  above  the  ground. 

Each  house  was  furnished  with  two  sheet  iron  stoves  for 
burning  wood,  and  had  stove  pipes  passing  through  the  roof. 
The  officers'  houses  were  the  same,  except  that  they  were 
smaller  and  were  divided  into  two  rooms  by  a  thin  board  par- 
tition. These  houses  were  very  easily  set  up.  There  was  but 
little  work  on  them  except  driving  nails.  They  had  been  pre- 
72 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

viously  painted  a  dark  red  color,  both  inside  and  out.  Whoever 
designed  these  cardboard  houses — for  they  proved  to  be  but 
little  better — had  but  a  small  conception  of  the  requirements  of 
that  climate.  The  winters  were  long,  with  deep  snow  and 
frequent  blizzards.  The  architect  of  these  shelters  was  in- 
directly the  cause  of  much  suffering.  We  built  log  huts  for 
company  kitchens,  but  we  had  no  mess-rooms. 

On  the  day  before  the  steamboat  Genoa  left  on  her  return 
trip  to  St.  Louis,  partly  loaded  with  furs,  a  paymaster,  who 
returned  on  her  paid  us  for  four  months.  We  did  not  see  a 
paymaster  again  until  the  following  May  or  June.  A  sutler 
had  established  a  store,  with  a  miscellaneous  stock  of  goods 
such  as  soldiers  needed,  also  goods  for  trading  with  the  In- 
dians. But  the  prices  were  so  high  that  we  could  not  afford  to 
buy  much.  This  was  due  to  the  high  cost  of  steamboat  trans- 
portation, which  amounted  to  about  fifty  dollars  per  ton 
from  St.  Louis. 

About  two  weeks  after  our  arrival  at  Fort  Pierre,  a  courier 
from  Brigadier  General  William  S.  Harney,  commander  of 
the  Sioux  expedition,  arrived  from  Ash  Hollow  with  an  or- 
der for  four  companies  of  the  Second  Infantry  to  be  sent  to 
him  as  re-enforcements. 

It  appeared  that  General  Harney  had  fought  a  battle  with 
the  Brule  and  Ogalalla  tribes  of  the  Sioux,  on  September 
3rd,  1855,  at  Ash  Hollow  on  the  Blue  Water  creek.  This  is 
a  tributary  of  the  Platte  River,  about  two  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  south-west  of  Fort  Pierre. 

These  were  the  Indians  who  had  massacred  Lieutenant 
Grattan  and  twenty-one  soldiers  more  than  a  year  before,  and 
for  whose  punishment  the  Government  had  organized  the 
Sioux  expedition. 

General  Harney  had  started  out  from  Fort  Laramie  with 
six  small  companies  of  infantry  and  two  of  cavalry.  After  a 
march  of  nearly  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  he  skillfully 
approached  the  Indians'  camp,  without  the  presence  of  his 
troops  being  suspected. 

73 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

The  Indians  had  been  buffalo  hunting  during  the  summer, 
acquiring  many  skins,  and  much  dried  buffalo  meat.  About 
seventy  lodges  had  encamped  on  the  Blue  Water  in  a  sheltered 
valley,  where  they  probably  expected  to  pass  the  coming 
winter. 

The  troops  surprised  the  camp  at  day  break,  and  attacked  it 
simultaneously  from  two  sides.  The  Indians,  unable  to  make 
any  organized  resistance,  fled  in  the  direction  where  their 
ponies  were  herded,  but  were  pursued  by  the  cavalry.  Many 
were  killed,  among  them  a  number  of  squaws,  for  in  the  con- 
fusion it  was  difficult  to  distinguish  them  from  the  warriors. 

The  chief,  Little  Thunderer,  made  his  escape.  The  soldiers 
lost  few  in  this  action,  but  the  punishment  to  the  Indians  was 
very  severe ;  and  it  had  its  effect,  for  as  long  as  we  remained 
among  the  Sioux,  only  small  skirmishes  took  place. 

The  loss  of  all  their  lodges,  provisions,  arms,  furs  and  other 
property,  which  the  general  caused  to  be  burned,  was  a  severe 
blow  to  them.  They  were  also  deprived  of  many  of  their 
ponies.  After  the  battle,  the  troops  were  encamped  in  a 
stronger  position  nearby.  There  they  awaited  re-enforcements 
from  Fort  Pierre,  where  they  intended  to  winter,  as  the  gen- 
eral deemed  it  imprudent  to  march  his  small  force  to  the  fort, 
across  the  enemy's  country,  fearing  that  other  tribes  to  the 
north  and  east  might  form  a  coalition  with  the  vanquished 
Indians. 

My  company  was  one  of  the  four  ordered  to  join  General 
Harney,  at  Ash  Hollow;  but  I  and  a  few  more  of  the  young 
boys  were  not  taken  along.  We  were  left  at  Fort  Pierre  with 
the  two  companies  retained  there.  The  march  proved  to  be 
very  severe.  Part  of  the  route  was  across  the  "Mauvaises 
Terres"  (Bad  Lands),  where  there  was  no  vegetation.  It  was 
a  desert,  where  wood  and  water  had  to  be  carried  in  the  wag- 
gons from  one  camp  to  another. 

Many  curious  specimens  of  fossil  remains,  picked  up  in  the 
Bad  Lands,  were  brought  by  the  soldiers  to  Fort  Pierre. 
There  were  petrified  fish,  lizards,  frogs,  etc.  But  nearly  all 
were  imperfect,  and  more  or  less  broken. 

74 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

After  a  short  rest,  the  united  troops  under  General  Harney, 
twelve  companies  in  all — quite  a  little  army  for  those  days — 
took  up  their  march  for  Fort  Pierre,  and  arrived  there  early 
in  November,  without  any  molestation  from  the  Indians. 

I  have  often  regretted  since  that  I  was  not  allowed  to  go 
on  this  march.  I  wanted  to  see  that  part  of  the  country, 
through  which  but  few  white  men  had  ever  traveled  before. 

General  Harney's  additional  troops  went  into  camp  near 
our  quarters.  The  weather  was  getting  cold;  winter  was  ap- 
proaching; firewood  was  scarce,  and  had  to  be  hauled  a  long 
distance.  There  was  but  a  small  supply  of  forage  for  the 
cavalry  horses,  and  scarcely  any  grass  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
fort.  That  had  been  eaten  up  by  the  mules  and  Indian  ponies. 
Water  also  had  to  be  carted  quite  a  distance  from  the  river. 
In  view  of  these  conditions,  and  as  there  were  not  enough 
portable  houses  to  shelter  them,  it  was  decided  to  put  the  six 
companies  of  the  Sixth  Infantry,  and  the  two  companies  of 
cavalry  into  cantonment.  They  were  accordingly  sent  about 
six  miles  up  the  river,  where  they  built  log  houses  in  the  woods 
on  the  east  bank  of  the  Missouri  and  remained  there  until 
the  following  spring. 

General  Harney  took  quarters  in  one  of  the  buildings  in 
the  stockade.  Whenever  it  was  my  turn  as  orderly  at  the  ad- 
jutant's office,  one  of  my  duties  was  to  bring  the  general,  in 
a  sealed  envelope,  the  "countersign,"  or  watchword  for  the 
night.  When  I  approached  him,  saluted,  and  said:  "General, 
the  countersign,"  he  would  reply  in  his  gruff,  stentorian  voice, 
"Lay  it  on  the  table."  I  was  always  glad  to  hustle  out  of  his 
presence. 

The  general  was  very  tall  and  powerfully  built.  He  wore  a 
long  white  beard,  and  his  white  hair  was  also  long.  In  spite 
of  his  age,  he  was  erect — a  remarkably  commanding  figure. 
Many  of  the  Indians  knew  and  feared  him.  Among  them  he 
was  known  as  the  "Great  White  Chief." 

General  Harney  had  been  in  the  Seminole,  and  other  Indian 
wars.  He  was  colonel  of  the  Second  Dragoons,  in  the  war 

75 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

with  Mexico,  and  was  promoted  to  Brevet  Brigadier  General. 

During  the  absence  of  my  company  on  the  march  to  Ash 
Hollow  and  return,  I  had  but  little  to  do  and  spent  much  of 
my  time  in  wandering  about  the  environs  of  Fort  Pierre. 
With  others  I  crossed  the  river  in  a  canoe,  and  on  the  oppo- 
site side  we  found  great  quantities  of  wild  grapes,  which 
were  fairly  good  to  eat,  though  somewhat  tart.  We  squeezed 
the  juice  out  of  them,  and  with  the  addition  of  sugar  and 
water,  made  a  very  palatable  drink. 

There  were  some  prairie-dog  villages  on  the  plain  west  of 
the  fort,  and  it  was  interesting  to  watch  these  alert  and  nimble 
animals,  no  larger  than  a  squirrel,  running  about  and  having 
sentinels  posted  on  some  higher  point  near  their  underground 
dwellings.  These  sentries  sat  upon  their  haunches,  and 
watched  carefully  in  all  directions.  Whenever  we  got  within 
a  certain  distance  of  them,  they  gave  a  shrill,  sharp  bark, 
which  started  all  the  others  running  for  the  various  holes.  No 
matter  how  quiet  we  kept,  or  how  long  we  remained,  they 
did  not  come  out  again  until  we  were  a  long  distance  away. 

I  became  acquainted  with  some  of  the  employees  of  the 
American  Fur  Company,  who  were  mostly  French-Canadians, 
with  a  few  half-breed  Indians  among  them.  Some  of  them 
were  married  to  squaws  and  lived  at  the  Indian  camp  close  by. 
From  these  men,  who  were  mostly  hunters,  trappers  or  guides, 
I  heard  many  interesting  stories  of  their  hazardous  lives  and 
their  experiences  among  the  Indians,  whose  language  most  of 
them  spoke.  They  were  often  useful  as  interpreters. 

To  me,  the  most  interesting  people  at  Fort  Pierre  were  the 
Indians,  among  whom  I  passed  the  greater  part  of  my  leisure 
time.  This  intimate  association  with  the  savages  continued  all 
through  my  service  on  the  frontiers,  a  period  of  about  five 
years  in  Nebraska  and  Minnesota  Territories. 

I  have  read  the  beautiful  stories  of  Fennimore  Cooper  and 
other  writers  of  Indian  romances.  I  have  also  read  some  of 
the  stories  of  explorers  and  the  able  and  interesting  works  of 
men  who  lived  among  the  North  American  Indians  and  studied 

76 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

them.  But  I  do  not  intend  to  quote  from  any  of  them.  I  shall 
simply  relate  here  what  I  learned  about  the  Indians  from  per- 
sons living  in  close  contact  with  them  during  my  time  and  the 
impressions  they  made  on  my  youthful  mind,  as  I  can  remem- 
ber them  now,  after  a  period  of  fifty  years  since  I  left  the 
Indian  country  to  take  part  in  the  Civil  War,  in  1861. 

Nebraska  Territory  in  1855,  extended  from  Minnesota  Ter- 
ritory, on  the  east,  to  the  Rocky  mountains,  on  the  west ;  and 
from  Kansas  Territory,  on  the  south,  to  the  British  posses- 
sions, on  the  north.  It  has  since  been  partitioned  into  North 
and  South  Dakota,  Nebraska,  Wyoming  and  Montana.  The 
greater  part  of  this  immense  territory  was  claimed  and  inhab- 
ited by  the  Sioux  Indians,  a  name  given  to  them  by  the 
French-Canadians,  who  also  gave  French  names  to  some  of 
the  tribes  composing  the  Sioux,  such  as  the  Gross  Ventres, 
Brules,  etc.  These  Frenchmen  also  named  the  rivers,  streams 
and  mountains,  many  of  which  have  since  been  re-named. 

The  Indians  called  themselve  Dakotas,  and  did  not  recognize 
the  name  of  Sioux.  They  were  divided  into  a  number  of 
tribes,  each  ruled  by  a  chief.  The  following  are  the  names  of 
some  of  the  tribes,  with  the  most  of  whom  we  came  in  con- 
tact: Poncas,  Yanktons,  Yanktonnas,  Uncapapas,  Blackfeet, 
Rikarees,  Minnikanye,  Ogallalas,  Brules.  Certain  tribes  were 
sub-divided  into  bands,  such  as  the  "Two-Kettle-Band,"  and 
"Smutty-Bear-Band,"  both  of  whom  were  Yanktons. 

Lieutenant  Gouverneur  K.  Warren,  of  the  Topographical 
Engineers,  U.  S.  A.,  who  made  surveys  in  the  Dakota  country 
in  1855,  1856  and  1857,  and  to  whom  we  furnished  an  escort, 
estimated  the  Dakota  Indians  at  about  three  thousand  lodges, 
which  would  represent  a  population  of  twenty-four  thousand, 
of  which  five  thousand  were  warriors. 

During  a  decade,  their  numbers  had  decreased  from  wars 
with  the  Chippewa  Indians  and  other  tribes  in  the  north,  while 
in  the  south,  near  the  white  settlements,  the  mortality  from  the 
small-pox  had  been  very  great  among  Poncas  and  Yanktons. 
I  noticed  that  many  of  them  were  pock-marked,  and  some  had 

77 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

become  blind  in  one  eye  from  the  disease,  which  their  medi- 
cine-men could  neither  cure  nor  prevent  from  becoming 
epidemic. 

It  was  obvious  that  the  more  northern  tribes  of  the  Dakotas, 
who  had  seen  but  a  few  whites,  were  superior  to  those  of  the 
sou1;h,  near  the  settlements,  whose  contact  with  the  whites  had 
degraded  them.  The  Indians  who  inhabited  the  more  northern 
and  western  parts  of  Nebraska  were  fine  specimens  of  their 
race,  for  they  still  lived  in  their  aboriginal  way.  Game  was 
yet  abundant.  They  were  proud  and  warlike  and  possessed 
many  ponies.  Their  tepees  were  larger,  finer  and  more  deco- 
rated. They  were  rich  in  furs  of  all  kinds,  which  they  bartered 
with  the  traders  for  guns,  powder,  lead,  beads,  calico,  knives, 
tomahawks,  etc.  Many  of  them  had  guns,  but  most  of  these 
were  old  flint-locks.  Bows  and  arrows  were  by  no  means 
abandoned  and  they  continued  to  manufacture  and  use  them. 
They  also  had  many  dogs,  which  closely  resembled  wolves,  ex- 
cept in  color.  These  dogs,  some  of  them  very  large,  they  used 
in  many  ways,  often  as  beasts  of  burden — and  as  a  choice 
article  of  food  on  festive  occasions. 

The  distinctive  features  of  the  Dakotas  were  their  broad 
faces  with  high  cheek  bones ;  their  high,  broad,  receding  fore- 
heads and  coarse,  coal-black  hair,  slightly  wavy  like  a  horse's 
mane.  The  men,  or  bucks,  as  we  called  them,  wore  no  beards. 
The  very  little  hair  that  grew  on  their  faces,  they  carefully  re- 
moved. I  often  saw  them  engaged  in  plucking  out  hairs  from 
their  faces  with  tweezers  and  the  aid  of  a  small  mirror.  Some 
of  them  even  plucked  the  hair  from  their  eyebrows.  The  men 
were  generally  tall,  or  looked  so  because  of  their  erect  bear- 
ing. Sinewy  and  slender  as  a  rule,  quick  and  active,  they 
seemed  better  looking  than  the  women.  They  wore  buckskin 
leggings  and  buckskin  shirts  in  winter,  fringed  and  orna- 
mented, moccasins,  elaborately  beaded,  and  colored  blankets 
or  soft  buffalo  robes.  They  wore  no  head  covering,  simply  a 
few  eagle  feathers.  Hats  or  war  bonnets  were  only  worn  on 
special  occasions.  They  were  fond  of  wearing  large  brass 

78 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

rings  in  their  ears,  the  weight  of  which  pulled  the  lobes  so 
far  down  as  to  be  grotesque.  Many  wore  armlets  and  wrist- 
lets of  heavy  brass  wire,  wound  around  many  times,  and  a 
necklace  of  bears'  claws. 

The  complexion  of  the  Dakotas  ranged  all  the  way  from  a 
pale  saffron  to  a  deep  copper  color.  When  they  were  decked 
out  in  their  full  paraphernalia,  with  their  faces  and  upper 
parts  of  their  bodies  painted  in  various  colors,  knives  and 
tomahawks  thrust  into  their  belts,  and  bows  and  quivers  slung 
over  their  shoulders,  they  presented  a  formidable  and  pictur- 
esque appearance. 

I  saw  but  a  small  proportion  of  very  old  bucks  or  squaws 
among  them.  Possibly  they  had  a  way  of  getting  rid  of  them 
when  they  became  old  and  helpless.  Neither  were  children 
very  numerous,  although  they  practised  polygamy.  I  suppose 
many  of  these  died  in  infancy. 

Of  the  many  Indian  chiefs  whom  I  saw  at  Fort  Pierre,  I 
can  only  recall  the  names  of  two,  Struck-by-the-Ree  and 
Smutty-Bear,  who  were  there  frequently  and  in  whose  tepees 
I  smoked  the  pipe.  Both  were  well  along  in  years. 

Of  the  squaws  but  few  could  be  called  handsome  and  it 
would  be  flattery  to  say  that  many  were  even  good  looking. 
While  they  were  generally  lithe  and  graceful  in  their  youth, 
laborious  work  and  severe  hardships  aged  them  early.  They 
inclined  to  stoutness  more  than  the  males,  and  many  of  the 
elder  ones  had  backs  that  were  bent  from  carrying  heavy 
burdens. 

The  squaws  planted  corn,  dug  up  edible  roots,  gathered  and 
dried  fruit,  skinned  the  game  which  the  men  killed,  cut  up  and 
dried  the  buffalo  meat,  tanned  the  skins,  made  moccasins  and 
garments,  did  the  cooking,  fetched  water  and  carried  fire  wood 
or  buffalo  chips  for  long  distances  on  their  backs.  They 
put  up  and  took  down  the  teepees,  loaded  the  ponies,  and  did 
all  kinds  of  other  work,  frequently  with  a  papoose  or  two 
fastened  to  their  backs. 

The  males  did  little  more  than  hunt  and  fish,  make  bows 

79 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

and  arrows,  and  carve  pipes  and  stems.  The  young  Indians 
herded  and  took  care  of  the  ponies  and  some  few  horses 
which  had  probably  been  stolen  from  the  settlers.  Sometimes 
they  helped  the  squaws  in  setting  up  the  large,  heavy  teepees. 
This  is  about  all  I  ever  saw  them  do,  save  for  playing  polo 
with  a  ball  and  crooked  stick,  while  mounted  on  their  fleet 
and  active  ponies,  very  much  the  same  as  the  game  is  played 
among  the  whites  to-day. 

The  squaws'  clothing  closely  resembled  that  of  the  bucks. 
They  wore  buckskin  mocassins,  leggings  and  a  skirt,  but  they 
were  very  fond  of  gay  colored  calico  garments,  which  they 
wore  in  the  summer  time.  The  material  for  these  they  ob- 
tain from  traders  or  soldiers.  We  often  bought  calico  of  the 
sutler  and  traded  it  with  the  squaws  for  moccasins  or  furs. 
We  could  always  make  a  better  bargain  if  the  calico  had  glar- 
ing colors  and  fantastic  figures.  The  squaws  also  wore  a 
blanket  or  robe,  and  when  they  covered  up  their  heads  with 
that,  leaving  only  their  broad  faces  exposed,  they  looked  so 
much  like  the  young  bucks  that  it  was  difficult  to  distinguish 
the  sexes  by  sight.  This  was  the  cause  of  some  ridiculous 
mistakes  by  the  soldiers. 

Observance  of  ceremonies  and  duties  toward  the  dead  was 
also  the  performance  of  squaws.  When  an  Indian  died  the 
squaws  sewed  up  the  body  in  several  wraps  of  buffalo  hide 
together  with  his  personal  belongings — his  gun,  his  bow  and 
arrows,  his  knife,  tomahawk,  pipe  and,  in  fact,  all  his  minor 
property.  Some  ears  of  corn  and  other  food  were  always 
placed  inside  the  shroud  to  provision  him  for  the  journey  to 
the  spirit  land. 

The  Dakotas  did  not  bury  their  dead.  They  either  secured 
them  in  the  branches  of  trees  or  on  a  rude,  strong  scaffold 
made  of  forked  sticks  and  poles,  set  atop  some  hill,  where  it 
was  plainly  visible  for  miles  around.  Among  the  Ponca  tribe, 
however,  I  saw  bodies  placed  on  the  ground  on  top  of  a  knoll 
with  a  pediment-shaped  structure  of  split  logs  over  them. 
They  were  encased  in  stones  and  sods  to  secure  them,  but 

80 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

many  had  fallen  into  decay  and  were  partly  open  to  the  rav- 
ages of  wolves  and  other  animals. 

Sometimes  on  marches  through  the  country  we  had  a  few 
Indian  guides  who  took  some  of  their  squaws  with  them. 
Whenever  the  squaws  sighted  an  Indian  burial  place  they  rode 
towards  it,  dismounted,  and  set  up  a  mournful  howl.  Then 
they  deposited  some  ears  of  corn  or  some  pemican  at  the  foot 
of  the  tree  or  scaffold. 

On  a  hill  within  sight  of  Fort  Pierre,  there  was  a  large,  high 
scaffold,  on  which  some  dozens  of  Indians*  bodies  were  lashed 
with  strips  of  buffalo  skins.  I  visited  the  place  one  day  with 
some  companions.  We  found  that  a  recent  storm  had  demol- 
ished a  part  of  the  old  structure,  and  nearly  a  dozen  of  the 
bodies  had  fallen  to  the  ground.  In  many  cases  the  dry,  brittle 
wrappings  of  skins  had  been  broken  open  by  the  fall,  exposing 
the  contents  to  plain  view. 

It  seemed  to  me  most  singular  that  the  bodies  had  not  putri- 
fied,  but  appeared  to  have  simply  shriveled  up  in  that  pure,  dry 
atmosphere.  It  was  as  if  they  had  been  mumified  by  nature. 
There  appeared  to  be  no  flesh,  but  a  parchment  like  skin  clung 
to  the  bones,  and  the  raven  black  hair  adhered  to  the  skull. 

The  bodies  were  all  fully  dressed  and  had  on  all  their  orna- 
ments. I  noticed  one  among  them  that  wore  a  British  officer's 
red  uniform  coat  with  epaulets  and  gilded  buttons.  I  regret 
to  say  that  some  of  the  soldiers  committed  the  sacrilege  of  ap- 
propriating some  of  the  articles  inclosed  with  the  bodies,  such 
as  knives,  tomahawks,  flints  and  steel,  and  made  practical  use 
of  them. 

A  group  of  squaws  sometimes  visited  the  fort  with  cunning 
looking  little  papooses'  heads  peeping  out  over  their  shoulders 
followed  by  small  children  who  were  afraid  of  the  soldiers. 
They  meandered  around  until  they  found  the  huts  where  the 
soldiers'  wives  and  families  lived.  There  they  would  squat  on 
the  ground  and  spend  hours  watching  the  white  women  at 
their  domestic  work.  By  way  of  diversion  they  occasionally 
placed  one  of  their  children  between  their  knees,  and  set  to 

81 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

work  picking  small  insects  out  of  the  child's  hair.  They  had  a 
very  original  and  effective  way  of  disposing  of  the  captive. 
They  held  him  between  the  thumb  and  finger,  placed  him  be- 
tween the  front  teeth  and  bit  him  to  death. 

The  squaws  wore  their  black,  coarse  hair  in  two  long  braids. 
The  parting  in  the  center  was  generally  made  conspicuous  with 
vermillion  paint.  The  color  of  their  cheeks  was  heightened  by 
the  same  material,  with  perhaps  a  yellow  ring  around  the  eyes. 
If  in  mourning,  a  simple,  irregular  patch  of  white  paint  on  the 
forehead  seemed  to  be  all  that  was  needed.  They  greased  their 
hair  liberally  with  buffalo  fat  which,  when  rancid,  emitted  an 
unpleasant  odor. 

It  was  interesting  to  watch  the  arrival  of  a  band  of  Indian^ 
at  a  military  post.  This  happened  often  at  Fort  Pierre  except 
in  winter.  Sometimes  they  came  with  a  grievance  against 
white  settlers  or  hunters,  or  with  a  complaint  against  a  neigh- 
boring tribe  who  were  violating  a  treaty.  But  often  they  vis- 
ited us  simply  out  of  curiosity.  They  came  in  large  and  small 
parties,  sometimes  several  hundred  or  more,  including  squaws 
and  children. 

I  often  watched  the  long  line  coming  down  the  hills  or  across 
the  prairie,  the  men  riding  in  advance  two  by  two  on  their  un- 
shod ponies.  After  them  came  squaws  riding  straddle  and 
leading  pack  horses.  Next  came  a  line  of  ponies  in  single  file, 
with  a  number  of  long  lodge  poles  lashed  to  their  sides.  One 
end  of  the  poles  dragged  on  the  ground  behind,  making  what  is 
called  an  Indian  trail.  On  these  poles,  behind  the  pony,  there 
was  fastened  a  network  on  which  were  piled  the  teepees,  furs, 
cooking  utensils,  and  other  articles  used  by  the  Indians.  The 
ponies  were  led  by  boys  or  girls  mounted  or  on  foot.  Fron- 
tiersmen called  these  conveyances  "travoys."  Bringing  up 
the  rear  were  a  number  of  large  dogs  dragging  smaller  tra- 
voys in  which  children  rode.  Old  squaws  or  invalids  rode 
as  best  they  could  on  top  of  the  baggage  on  the  larger  travoys. 

When  a  suitable  camping  place  near  the  post  was  reached, 
there  was  a  halt  and  a  closing  up  of  the  long  column.  The 

82 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

bucks  had  a  short  parley  with  the  squaws.  Then  they  dis- 
mounted and  sat  down  on  the  grass  in  groups  and  commenced 
smoking  their  pipes,  while  the  squaws  unpacked  the  ponies, 
and  began  to  put  up  the  teepees  in  line  and  at  regular  intervals. 
Some  of  the  larger  teepees,  with  their  long  poles,  were  heavy 
to  raise  and  required  the  assistance  of  the  younger  bucks. 
When  the  ponies  were  all  unpacked  and  unsaddled,  they  were 
driven  off  to  water  and  graze  on  the  prairie.  The  tired  dogs 
lay  down,  and  went  to  sleep.  The  squaws  continued  at  their 
tasks.  Some  in  search  of  fire-wood,  others  went  off  with  ket- 
tles for  water  or  were  busy  within  the  teepees.  When  the 
teepees  were  ready,  the  Indians  entered  them  and  after  a  time 
emerged,  if  the  sun  was  not  too  low,  dressed — or  rather  un- 
dressed— in  full  war  paint.  They  were  naked  from  the  waist 
up.  Some  wore  feathered  bonnets ;  others  had  eagle  feathers 
in  their  hair.  But  the  faces  of  all  were  grotesquely  painted  in 
colors  that  suited  their  fancy.  Some  were  hideous. 

They  also  painted  part  of  their  bodies,  particularly  the  ribs. 
When  this  was  done  alternately  in  white  and  black  it  made 
them  look  like  living  skeletons.  They  were  unarmed,  except 
for  a  knife  or  tomahawk  carried  in  their  waist  belts.  A  few 
squaws,  their  faces  also  painted,  and  each  with  a  small  drum 
like  a  tambourine,  joined  them. 

By  this  time  an  interpreter  had  appeared.  They  donned 
their  robes  or  blankets,  and  without  any  regular  formation, 
started  for  the  parade  ground.  In  front  of  the  commanding 
officer's  house  they  came  to  a  halt.  The  commandant  with 
other  officers  was  ready  to  receive  them.  A  lot  of  the  soldiers 
not  on  duty  and  citizen  employees  soon  formed  a  group  of 
spectators.  The  Indians  threw  off  their  robes  and  blankets  and 
formed  a  circle.  The  squaws  stationed  outside  of  the  circle 
commenced  a  monosyllabic  chant  in  a  low  voice  at  first,  but 
gradually  rising.  This  was  responded  to  by  the  bucks  in  a 
like  manner,  while  the  squaws  beat  a  tom-tom  on  their  drums. 
Then  they  began  to  dance  around  the  circle,  slowly  at  first, 
with  heads  and  bodies  thrust  forward,  backs  curved,  feet  mov- 

83 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

ing  stiffly  up  and  down,  elbows  against  the  sides,  forearms  ex- 
tended straight  forward  and  fists  doubled.  In  this  way  the 
dance  went  on  for  five  or  ten  minutes,  increasing  in  speed  un- 
til it  ended  in  a  furious  beating  of  the  drums  and  an  ear  pierc- 
ing yell  or  war-whoop. 

After  this  interesting  ceremony  had  been  repeated  once  or 
twice,  the  Indians  advanced  in  a  body  towards  the  officers, 
headed  by  their  chief,  who  commenced  a  "talk,"  which  was  in- 
terpreted to  the  commanding  officer,  and  was  frequently  as- 
sented to  by  a  grunt  from  the  other  Indians.  When  the  chief 
had  concluded,  his  place  would  be  taken  by  another,  a  real  ora- 
tor perhaps,  whose  language  was  fluent  and  gestures  dramatic. 

The  complaints  of  the  Indians  were  often  about  settlers  en- 
croaching on  their  lands,  or  about  a  party  of  white  hunters 
who  had  caused  the  buffaloes  to  migrate  to  other  parts.  If 
they  had  no  particular  grievance,  they  would  tell  that  they  were 
good  Indians  and  loved  the  whites,  especially  the  soldiers.  Then 
they  would  ask  for  food.  When  the  Indians  had  finished  the 
commanding  officer's  reply  was  interpreted  to  them,  and  re- 
ceived with  grunts  of  satisfaction  or  dissent.  Sometimes  an- 
other talk  was  held  on  the  following  day,  but  they  all  ended 
by  an  order  on  the  commissary  for  several  days'  rations  for 
every  member  of  the  party.  Sometimes  the  Indians  prolonged 
their  stay  and  induced  the  commanding  officer  to  grant  them 
a  second  issue  of  rations.  By  the  time  they  reached  the  com- 
missary store  house,  a  number  of  the  squaws  were  on  hand 
ready  to  receive  the  rations  which  consisted  of  bacon,  flour  or 
hard  bread  (biscuits)  in  barrels,  rice,  beans,  ground  coffee  and 
sugar.  No  salt,  pepper,  vinegar,  candles  or  soap  was  issued 
to  them.  They  had  no  use  or  desire  for  these — particularly  the 
soap. 

To  watch  the  distribution  of  the  rations,  which  were  given 
to  them  in  bulk  and  in  the  original  packages  so  far  as  possible, 
was  very  amusing.  At  first  everything  received  was  carried  to 
a  clear  place  some  distance  from  the  store  house.  The  barrels 
were  carried  as  well  as  the  boxes,  for  the  Indians  did  not 

84 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

understand  about  rolling  them  until  some  of  the  soldiers 
showed  them  how  to  do  it.  The  squaws,  who  represented  fami- 
lies, spread  blankets  or  robes  on  the  grass  into  which  to  receive 
their  share.  Some  of  the  Indians  opened  the  barrels  and  boxes 
awkwardly  with  tomahawks  and  knives  and  commenced  the 
division  under  the  supervision  of  the  chief,  with  a  lot  of  jab- 
bering from  the  squaws.  They  seemed  to  get  along  fairly 
well  with  articles  that  could  be  counted,  such  as  sides  of  bacon 
or  biscuits ;  but  coffee,  sugar,  rice,  etc.,  they  divided  in  smal' 
cupfulls  for  each  individual,  until  the  supply  was  exhausted. 
The  squaws  then  shouldered  the  bundles  and  followed  the 
bucks  back  to  their  camp  with  happy  expressions. 

I  have  also  seen  one  of  our  beef  cattle  issued  to  a  large 
party.  The  Indians  would  drive  the  frightened  animal  near 
to  their  camp  and  kill  him  by  shooting.  Then  the  squaws 
skinned  him  and  cut  him  up,  utilizing  many  parts  of  the  car- 
cass that  a  white  man  would  throw  away. 

On  the  night  when  rations  had  been  issued  there  was  a  feast 
in  camp.  They  gorged  themselves,  beat  their  drums,  and  sang 
long  after  we  soldiers  had  to  retire  after  tattoo. 

I  distinctly  remember  my  first  visit  to  the  Indian  camp  at 
Fort  Pierre,  accompanied  by  some  other  soldiers.  There  were 
about  two  dozen  lodges.  Half  of  them  were  visitors.  The 
others  remained  there  permanently,  and  lived  on  what  they 
got  from  the  soldiers  and  fur  company  employees.  The  latter 
were  a  rather  lazy  lot  and  did  but  little  hunting,  so  long  as 
they  could  get  enough  to  eat  around  the  fort.  The  first  salute 
we  received  was  from  a  pack  of  wolfish-looking  dogs  of  all 
sizes  which  barked  furiously  but  did  not  attempt  to  bite  and 
were  easily  shooed  away. 

We  walked  all  through  the  camp  and  noted  that  there  were 
large,  fine-looking  teepees,  decorated  with  Indian  paintings  of 
animals,  etc.,  on  the  exterior.  These  had  an  air  of  opulence 
about  them  that  seemed  to  indicate  the  owner  to  be  the  pos- 
sessor of  many  squaws  and  ponies.  There  were  also  many 
more  teepees  that  were  less  pretentious  and  a  few  small,  old 

85 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

and  tattered  ones  that  showed  the  poverty  of  the  owner.  It 
was  much  like  other  villages  the  world  over.  The  palace  and 
the  hovel  were  in  close  proximity.  Back  of  the  teepees  squaws 
were  cooking  something  in  kettles  hung  on  a  pole,  supported 
over  the  fire  by  two  forked  sticks.  They  always  cooked  outside 
until  the  weather  got  cold.  Some  children  played  and  ran 
around  just  as  white  children  do. 

The  teepees  were  of  tanned  buffalo  hides,  closely  sewed  to- 
gether with  a  strong  thread  made  from  the  sinews  of  the  same 
animal.  They  were  conical  in  shape  and  were  upheld  by  a 
number  of  long,  slender  but  very  strong  poles,  placed  in  a  cir- 
cle on  the  bottom  at  regular  intervals  and  meeting  on  top  where 
they  were  interlocked.  There  was  an  opening  above  for  the 
smoke  to  escape.  The  entrance  was  through  a  slit  on  the  side, 
high  enough  for  a  man  to  pass  through  nearly  upright  and 
spread  apart  on  the  bottom  to  make  the  passage  easier.  Over 
this  opening  a  piece  of  tanned  hide  was  usually  hung  to  keep 
out  the  weather.  These  teepees  could  be  kept  warm  and 
comfortable  in  the  coldest  of  weather,  and  were  far  more  dur- 
able than  the  best  canvas  tents. 

We  entered  one  of  the  best  lodges  without  the  formality  of 
knocking  against  the  side  of  the  opening  and  saying  "How-ko- 
ta,"  as  we  had  not  yet  learned  Indian  etiquette.  The  interior 
appeared  dark  at  first  after  the  bright  sunlight ;  but  we  distin- 
guished the  inmates  to  consist  of  several  Indians,  some  squaws 
and  a  few  children.  They  all  squatted  onto  robes  spread 
around  the  sides  of  the  lodge,  which  formed  their  bedding.  We 
were  apparently  received  in  a  friendly  manner,  and  by  words 
and  signs  were  invited  to  sit  down  among  them.  We  squatted 
like  our  hosts  with  our  legs  crossed.  The  Indians  did  not  appear 
to  have  been  doing  anything  but  conversing.  Some  of  the 
squaws,  however,  were  sewing  beads  on  mossacins. 

The  smaller  children  shrunk  back  and  stared  at  us.  Pres- 
ently one  of  the  bucks  produced  a  long  wooden  stemmed  pipe 
of  polished  red  stone,  which  he  filled  with  kinnikinic,  the  In- 
dians' substitute  *f or  tobacco,  from  a  buckskin  pouch  and  lit 

86 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

the  pipe  with  a  piece  of  punk  ignited  from  a  flint  and  steel.  He 
took  five  or  six  whiffs  of  the  pipe  very  deliberately,  and  swal- 
lowed all  the  smoke.  Then  he  handed  the  pipe  to  a  soldier  on 
his  left.  As  he  did  this  he  began  to  exhale  all  the  smoke  he 
had  in  him  slowly  through  his  nostrils.  The  soldier  imitated 
the  Indian  in  taking  a  half  a  dozen  whiffs,  but  he  did  not  swal- 
low the  smoke.  In  this  way  the  "Pipe  of  Peace"  passed  around 
the  circle  from  Indian  to  soldier,  and  soldier  to  Indian,  myself 
included.  We  understood  enough  not  to  offend  against  the 
Indian  custom  of  passing  the  pipe  from  mouth  to  mouth  by 
wiping  the  mouth  piece.  After  the  smoke  there  was  an  at- 
tempt at  talk  of  which  neither  party  understood  anything.  The 
young  squaws  watched  us  closely  and  giggled  occasionally.  I 
tried  to  make  one  of  them  understand  that  I  wanted  a  pair  of 
moccasins.  She  brought  out  a  bundle  of  them,  and  showed  me 
some  handsome  ones.  But  we  failed  to  make  a  bargain.  I 
had  to  make  a  few  visits  with  an  experienced  person  before  I 
learned  to  trade  with  them. 

The  kinnikinic  that  the  Indians  smoked  was  the  bark  of  a 
red  willow  that  grew  along  the  streams.  They  first  removed 
the  outside  red  bark,  then  carefully  scraped  off  the  greenish 
second  bark  with  a  knife  without  cutting  into  the  wood.  These 
shavings  were  dried  in  the  sun  or  before  a  fire.  When  crisp 
they  were  rubbed  into  small  particles  between  the  hands.  The 
Indians  were  fond  of  mixing  a  little  tobacco,  cut  up  small,  with 
the  bark,  but  I  never  saw  them  smoke  pure  tobacco,  as  they 
could  not  inhale  its  smoke.  The  bark  of  the  red  willow,  when 
mixed  with  tobacco,  made  an  agreeable,  fragrant  smoke.  The 
soldiers  often  used  it. 

Before  we  left  the  teepee  we  gave  the  Indians  a  generous 
piece  of  plug  tobacco  which  seemed  to  please  them  very  much 
and  caused  them  to  say,  "Was-te-da,"  which  means  "good." 

We  entered  several  other  lodges  on  this,  our  first  visit,  and 
had  more  smokes.  But  I  learned  later  that  the  smoking  cere- 
mony only  took  place  on  the  first  visit,  and  not  on  subsequent 
calls,  unless  we  brought  with  us  a  stranger  who  had  not  vis- 

87 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

ited  the  lodge  before.  We  were  received  in  a  friendly  way  in 
most  of  the  lodges,  yet  once  in  a  while  we  heard  an  ominous 
growl  from  within  and  thought  it  best  to  keep  out. 

While  many  of  the  older  Indians  were  very  austere  and  dig- 
nified in  their  intercourse  with  soldiers,  the  younger  ones  were 
inclined  to  be  droll,  particularly  the  younger  squaws,  with 
whom,  on  account  of  my  youth  I  suppose,  I  seemed  to  become 
a  welcome  visitor.  I  went  to  the  Indian  camp  almost  daily, 
sometimes  with  a  companion  but  more  often  without  one. 

Many  of  the  soldiers  became  as  much  interested  in  the  In- 
dians as  I  was.  We  began  to  imitate  them.  We  wore  mocca- 
sins when  not  on  duty.  We  sometimes  built  a  council  fire  back 
of  our  quarters,  around  which  we  squatted  after  dark  wrapped 
in  blankets  like  Indians.  We  smoked  the  "pipe  of  peace,"  and 
we  had  "talks."  There  were  some  good  mimics  among  us,  who 
could  deliver  a  speech  to  the  rest  of  the  "warriors,"  which 
neither  the  orator  nor  anyone  else  understood.  We  painted 
our  faces  and  imitated  war  dances  with  their  accompanying 
drum  beats  and  chant,  not  forgetting  to  yell  furiously  at  the 
end.  We  called  each  other  by  the  most  ridiculous  "Indian" 
names.  Mine  was,  "Why-a-so,"  but  that  was  a  real  name 
given  to  me  by  some  of  the  young  Indians  and  squaws.  It 
meant  "musician." 

We  got  up  imitation  war  parties  and  scalped  our  helpless 
prisoners  or  burned  them  at  the  stake.  In  fact,  we  were  like 
a  lot  of  boys,  and  got  plenty  of  fun  out  of  it  while  the  novelty 
lasted. 

I  soon  became  interested  in  the  Dakota  language  and  tried 
to  learn  all  I  could.  I  got  a  memorandum  book  and  pencil. 
When  in  a  teepee  I  asked  the  names  of  various  objects  to  which 
I  pointed.  When  these  were  given  to  me,  I  wrote  them  in  my 
book  in  phonetic  spelling.  When  I  read  them  off  to  the  In- 
dians on  my  next  visit  they  were  much  interested  and  laughed 
when  I  mispronounced  a  word.  In  this  way  I  picked  up  quite 
a  vocabulary,  but  when  it  came  to  pronouns,  adjectives  and 
verbs,  my  progress  was  slow.  This  was  partly  due  to  the  va- 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

rious  meanings  of  the  same  word.  Numbers  were  easy  for  the 
Dakotas  could  not  count  above  ten.  After  that  it  was  so  many 
tens  and  units.  They  generally  kept  a  tally  for  any  consider- 
able number  that  was  to  be  remembered  by  making  notches  on 
a  stick.  I  never  attained  any  considerable  proficiency  in  the 
language,  but  I  learned  enough  to  ask  simple  questions  and 
make  my  wants  known.  I  could  understand  the  meaning  of 
much  of  what  they  said  after  I  became  a  little  familiar  with 
the  many  signs  used  when  talking.  Some  of  the  Indians 
evinced  a  desire  to  learn  English  and  easily  acquired  some 
nouns.  But  beyond  that  they  could  only  imitate  sounds  with- 
out understanding  their  meanings.  This  was  taken  advantage 
of  by  some  wags  among  the  soldiers,  who  taught  them  to  utter 
the  most  ridiculous  phrases.  This  never  failed  to  provoke  a 
laugh,  which  seemed  to  please  the  Indians. 

About  the  first  thing  I  remarked  in  the  Dakota  language, 
was  that  the.  vowels  a,  e,  i,  o,  and  u,  had  the  long  Italian  sound 
in  pronunciation,  and  that  the  greater  part  of  the  words, 
whether  nouns,  pronouns,  verbs,  or  adjectives,  ended  in  a 
vowel,  which  was  always  accented,  and  of  which  the  following 
are  examples: 

Buffalo  Ta-tai-ka 

Horse  Shun-ka-ka 

Dog  Shun-ka 

Blanket  Shin-na-hota 

Water  Mi-ni 

Whiskey  Mi-ni- wa-ka 

Silver  Money  Kash-pa-pi 

Bread  or  Crackers  Ak-yu-a-pe 

Woman  Wee-a 

Plenty  O-ta 

Missouri  River  Mi-ni-tan-ka 

Mississippi  River  Mi-ni-so-ta 

I,  thou,  he  Mi-a,  Ni-a,  Ee-a 

Ride  Ga-ki-a 

Far  Te-ha 

Large  Tan-ka 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Many  signs  were  used  by  the  Indians  in  their  conversation, 
as  for  instance,  the  phrase  "Mi-a,  ga-ki-a,  te-ha,  shun-ka-ka," 
meaning  "I  am  going  to  ride  far,"  had  to  be  accompanied  by 
the  sign  of  straddling  the  first  finger  of  the  left  hand  with  the 
first  two  fingers  of  the  right,  to  indicate  riding  on  horseback. 
Each  tribe  also  had  a  sign  by  which  the  members  could  make 
themselves  known.  That  of  the  Dakotas  was  the  drawing  of 
the  open  right  hand  across  the  throat  from  left  to  right. 

Another  peculiarity  of  the  language  was  the  total  absence 
of  the  consonant  "R."  I  cannot  recall  a  single  word  that  had 
any  sound  resembling  that  letter  in  it. 

Early  in  November  ice  began  to  form  on  the  edge  of  the 
river  in  places  where  the  current  was  not  strong.  The  nights 
were  cold,  and  we  found  our  blankets  insufficient  for  comfort. 
Buffalo  robes  and  other  furs  were  still  fairly  plentiful,  and 
could  be  had  from  traders  or  Indians  at  a  very  moderate  price. 
Many  of  the  soldiers  bought  them  to  keep  warm.  I  got  a  fine 
large  one  in  trade  for  about  three  dollars,  also  a  deer  skin  for 
two  dollars.  Old  and  worn  robes  could  be  had  much  cheaper. 

The  Indians  who  lived  near  the  fort  permanently  soon 
learned  the  value  of  money  and  how  to  spend  it  at  the  sutler's 
store.  They  liked  the  bright  silver  dollars,  for  one  of  which 
the  squaws  would  sell  us  a  pair  of  nice  moccasins  ornamented 
with  beads.  A  plainer  pair  could  be  had  for  half  a  dollar. 

The  army  at  the  present  time  is  very  wisely  supplied  with 
clothing  suitable  to  the  climate  the  soldiers  are  serving  in.  In 
my  time,  however,  the  kind  and  quantity  of  clothing  was  the 
same,  whether  you  were  stationed  in  Florida  or  Nebraska.  Any 
additional  clothing  we  needed  in  that  cold  climate  we  were 
obliged  to  provide  and  pay  for  ourselves. 

By  the  latter  part  of  November,  the  Missouri  river  was  en- 
tirely frozen  over  with  ice  thick  enough  for  wagons  to  cross. 
We  had  snow,  but  no  great  quantity  as  yet.  The  thin  walls 
of  our  pasteboard  houses  were  covered  on  the  inside  with  : 
hoar-frost,  which  stayed  there  and  grew  thicker.  We  dug 
deep  trenches  around  the  houses  and  banked  up  the  earth 

90 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

against  them  to  make  the  floors  warmer.  One  day  we 
had  a  furious  wind  storm,  accompanied  by  drifting  snow. 
The  roofs  of  some  of  the  more  exposed  houses  were 
carried  off  and  the  sides  blown  in,  fortunately  without 
serious  damage  to  the  inmates.  Other  houses  were  only 
saved  by  the  passing  of  ropes  over  the  roofs  and  putting 
braces  against  the  sides.  This  was  the  beginning  of  a 
period  of  suffering,  which  lasted  until  the  following 
spring  and  was  the  worst  we  had  in  the  Dakota  country. 
After  the  storm  it  was  realized  that  the  frail  houses,  the  scar- 
city of  fire  wood  and  the  bleak  location,  made  Fort  Pierre  an 
unsuitable  place  to  winter  troops.  Therefore,  one  company 
was  ordered  to  a  well  wooded  island  below  the  fort,  while 
three  companies,  of  which  mine  was  one,  were  sent  to  build 
log  huts  in  the  woods  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  about 
five  miles  above  and  within  a  mile  of  where  the  companies  of 
the  Sixth  Infantry  and  the  two  cavalry  companies  were  lo- 
cated. Two  other  companies,  the  headquarters  and  the  band, 
remained  at  Fort  Pierre.  They  improved  the  houses  they  oc- 
cupied with  the  debris  from  the  houses  that  the  storm  had  de- 
stroyed. We  put  up  tents  near  the  river  bank.  A  place  about 
a  half  mile  back  on  higher  ground  was  selected  for  the  can- 
tonment, where  it  was  not  likely  to  be  overflowed  by  the  rise 
of  the  river  in  the  spring.  We  cleared  it  of  underbrush  and  cut 
down  the  trees,  mostly  cottonwoods.  There  we  commenced  to 
erect  log  huts. 

We  had  been  furnished  with  a  lot  of  axes,  large  saws,  crow 
bars,  picks  and  shovels  by  the  quartermaster's  department. 
Every  man  not  required  for  any  other  duty  was  put  to  work 
on  the  huts.  We  worked  with  a  will,  for  we  suffered  severely 
from  the  constantly  increasing  cold  in  our  tents,  which  we 
could  not  heat.  They  were  not  "Sibley"  tents,  and  we  had  no 
iron  stoves.  The  ground  was  frozen  hard  and  the  snow  was 
deep.  Evenings,  when  our  work  was  done  and  if  the  wind  was 
not  too  strong,  we  built  large  fires  in  the  company  streets  in 
front  of  the  tents.  Before  these  we  warmed  ourselves  before 

91 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

turning  in  for  the  night.  Soon  nearly  every  man's  blue  trous- 
ers were  scorched  brown  on  the  backs  from  standing  too  close 
to  the  fires.  Our  clothing  was  insufficient.  We  had  to  wear 
two  shirts  at  one  time  and  two  pairs  of  trousers  and  stockings. 

Although  I  was  not  required  to  work  on  the  log  huts,  I  did 
so  voluntarily  to  keep  from  freezing.  I  could  not  stay  in  the 
tent  without  being  covered  up  with  my  bedding,  and  I  did  not 
wish  to  stand  or  sit  around  a  fire  all  day,  to  be  scorched  on  one 
side  and  frozen  on  the  other,  while  my  eyes  smarted  with  the 
smoke. 

We  built  two  log  cabins  for  each  company  in  the  roughest 
way,  leaving  the  bark  on  the  logs,  notching  them  at  the  angles, 
and  roughly  cutting  off  the  projections  at  the  corners.  We 
sawed  out  an  opening  for  one  door  and  one  window,  and  built 
a  wide  fire  place  at  one  end  opposite  the  end  that  was  pierced 
by  the  single  window.  We  had  great  difficulty  finding  stone 
enough  to  build  the  fire  places,  which  were  about  six  feet  high 
and  had  wooden  chimneys  plastered  with  mud.  These  chim- 
neys gave  us  much  trouble  by  constantly  getting  on  fire. 

The  roofs  we  formed  of  split  logs,  laid  with  the  split  side 
down  on  a  pitch,  and  reaching  from  one  wall  to  the  other  in  a 
single  span.  On  this  we  put  a  thick  layer  of  brush  and  shrub, 
covered  with  about  twelve  inches  of  earth  pounded  down  hard. 
The  cracks  between  the  logs  were  chinked  with  wood  and 
daubed  with  mud.  We  had  to  build  fires  to  take  the  frost  out 
of  the  ground  before  we  could  dig  for  our  mud.  When  we 
mixed  it  with  warm  water  to  the  proper  consistency  for  daub- 
ing, it  froze  so  quickly  that  we  could  not  make  the  walls  and 
roof  tight  enough  to  keep  the  cold  wind  out. 

The  huts  had  a  dirt  floor.  We  constructed  rude  two-story 
bunks  of  split  logs  along  both  sides,  with  a  passage  only  six 
feet  between  them.  There  was  a  little  more  space  around  the 
fire  place.  There  was  no  lumber  of  any  kind  for  doors  and  no 
sashes  for  windows,  so  we  hung  a  piece  of  an  old  canvas 
wagon  cover  over  the  door-holes,  both  inside  and  out.  The 
window  opening  we  covered  with  a  piece  of  white  muslin 

92 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

bought  at  the  sutler's  store.  We  built  smaller  single-room  huts 
for  the  officers  and  the  married  soldiers  whose  wives  had  been 
left  at  Fort  Pierre  until  the  huts  were  ready  for  them.  We 
also  built  a  kitchen  for  each  company,  with  a  bread  oven  in 
it,  some  store  houses,  a  small  hospital  and  a  guard  house.  We 
did  not  build  any  messrooms.  Each  soldier  had  to  go  to  the 
kitchen  for  his  rations  and  eat  them  in  his  quarters. 

I  think  it  was  about  the  middle  of  December,  when  we  broke 
up  our  camp  at  the  river  and  moved  into  the  log  huts  at  "Can- 
tonment Miller,"  as  it  was  officially  named.  The  change  was 
for  the  better,  but  the  huts  proved  to  be  very  uncomfortable. 
The  stationary  bunks  took  up  so  much  of  the  room  that  we 
were  uncomfortably  crowded  and  the  place  was  dark.  When 
we  started  a  fire  the  ground  began  to  thaw  out  for  some  dis- 
tance in  front  of  the  fireplace  and  turn  to  soft  mud,  but  the 
earth  remained  frozen  hard  at  the  other  end  of  the  room.  The 
fire  had  little  effect  on  the  cold  air  of  the  room  in  severe 
weather,  except  in  its  immediate  vicinity.  We  burned  green 
cottonwood,  a  very  poor  material  for  heating.  While  the  logs 
burned  on  one  end  the  sap  ran  out  at  the  other.  We  got  some 
ash  and  a  little  cedar  wood,  which  was  better,  although  we  had 
to  go  long  distances  for  it.  Details  of  men  went  out  and 
dragged  in  on  home-made  sleds  the  better  kind  of  wood  needed 
for  cooking  and  baking.  Cottonwood  was  plentiful  all  around 
us. 

In  January  and  February  the  thermometer  sometimes 
dropped  to  forty  degree  below  zero,  but  when  we  made  an  un- 
usually large  fire  the  chimney  caught  fire.  We  had  to  keep 
pails  of  water  ready  to  extinguish  the  blaze.  On  very  cold 
nights  the  men  took  hourly  turns  to  keep  up  the  fire  and  to 
watch  the  chimney.  The  snow  was  deep  and  drifted  through 
the  chinks  of  our  log  huts.  We  often  found  large  patches  of 
snow  covering  our  bedding  in  the  morning. 

At  supper-time  every  evening  we  got  a  loaf  of  bread  which 
the  company  baker  had  made  that  day.  We  put  it  into  our 
haversacks,  which  were  hung  against  the  wall  of  the  hut.  The 

93 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

next  morning  it  was  frozen  as  hard  as  stone.  We  had  to 
knock  off  chunks  with  an  axe  and  thaw  them  at  the  fire  before 
we  could  bite  into  them.  Some  of  the  men  took  their  haver- 
sacks to  bed  with  them  to  keep  their  bread  from  freezing. 

Three  soldiers  at  Fort  Pierre  attempted  to  desert  to  the  set- 
tlements. They  perished  before  they  had  gone  a  hundred 
miles,  and  their  skeletons  were  found  the  following  summer 
by  a  scouting  party. 

We  hauled  our  water  from  the  Missouri  half  a  mile  away. 
The  ice  was  more  than  three  feet  thick  and  the  hole  we  had 
cut  through  it  to  get  at  the  water  froze  over  every  night  and 
had  to  be  re-opened  in  the  morning. 

By  this  time  we  had  accumulated  plenty  of  furs.  My  bunkie, 
Sergeant  McMillan,  and  I  possessed  three  buffalo  robes,  two 
deer  skins  and  some  wolf  skins.  With  these  and  four  blankets, 
we  had  a  warm  bed  on  the  coldest  nights.  I  had  the  company 
tailor  make  a  sort  of  a  cloak  for  me  from  a  buffalo  skin,  beaver 
skin  mittens  and  a  cap  with  ear-laps.  A  squaw  made  a  pair 
of  buffalo  skin  boots  for  me  with  the  hair  inside  and  large 
enough  to  wear  over  my  shoes.  Most  of  the  soldiers  made 
their  own  fur  clothing,  such  as  caps,  mittens,  coats  and  boots, 
and  produced  some  curious  looking  objects.  One  of  them 
made  for  himself  a  complete  outfit  of  boots,  pantaloons,  jacket 
and  cap  of  buffalo  skin  with  the  hair  outside.  He  presented 
a  weird  picture  when  dressed  in  them  and  was  given  the  name 
of  "Standing  Buffalo." 

We  were  permitted  to  wear  anything  we  pleased  on  or  off 
duty,  except  at  inspection  or  muster.  These,  however,  took 
place  in  the  company  quarters  during  the  severest  cold.  To 
expose  ourselves,  even  for  ten  minutes  on  parade  out  of  doors, 
without  furs,  would  have  resulted  in  frost-bitten  ears  and 
noses.  The  officers  clothed  themselves  about  the  same  as  the 
soldiers.  There  was  a  herd  of  beef  cattle  on  our  side  of  the 
river  and  when  the  snow  became  too  deep  for  them  to  find  any 
more  prairie  grass,  and  as  there  was  neither  forage  nor  hay 
for  them,  they  were  driven  into  the  woods  to  feed  on  the  bark 

94 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

of  young  trees.  They  began  to  die  off  rapidly  from  starvation 
and  exposure  after  the  change. 

The  French-Canadian  chief  cattle-herder,  who  reported  to 
the  commissary  officer  each  day,  would  say  in  his  peculiar 
English,  "M'sieu!  One  catt  ees  died!  Two  catt  ees  died!"  as 
the  case  might  be.  The  carcasses  were  left  where  they  died, 
and  were  quickly  devoured  by  the  wolves.  The  wolves  often 
came  around  our  quarters  at  night,  attracted  by  the  offal  from 
the  kitchens.  They  howled  hideously.  We  caught  one  occa- 
sionally by  an  ingenious  trap.  After  many  of  the  cattle  died, 
the  remainder  were  slaughtered.  The  meat  was  allowed  to 
freeze  and  was  piled  up  in  the  store  houses.  There  was  scarce- 
ly any  trace  of  fat  remaining.  It  was  not  nutritious.  When 
boiled  it  showed  greenish-yellow  streaks  running  through  it 
that  made  it  repulsive.  I  could  not  eat  any  of  it.  When  I 
needed  a  change  from  pork  or  bacon,  I  got  some  pemican  from 
the  Indians.  Pemican  is  buffalo  meat  cut  in  thin  slices,  with- 
out any  fat,  and  dried  in  the  sun  without  salting.  It  was  nutri- 
tious, but  hard  to  chew.  It  could  be  pounded  into  a  kind  of 
meal,  and  when  mixed  with  pork- fat  and  fried  in  a  pan,  it  was 
an  acceptable  dish.  This  and  a  piece  of  game,  when  I  could 
get  it,  made  an  agreeable  change  in  diet. 

The  cavalry  companies  lost  more  than  one-third  of  their 
horses  during  the  long,  severe  winter.  The  shelter  for  the 
horses  was  built  of  brushwood  and  there  was  no  forage. 
The  men  removed  the  snow  where  long  dry  grass  was  to  be 
found,  and  stripped  the  bark  from  young  trees  to  feed  the 
horses.  Some  of  the  horses  lost  their  ears  or  tails  from  frost- 
bites. The  mules  stood  the  hardship  better  than  the  horses. 
Mortality  was  not  so  great  among  them,  but  they  also  lost  some 
ears  and  tails. 

About  mid- winter,  scurvy  made  its  appearance.  We  had  been 
fed  on  a  salt  meat  diet  for  nearly  eight  months  and,  with  the 
exception  of  a  few  wild  fruits,  had  had  no  vegetables.  Those 
who  were  attacked  became  pale  and  listless.  After  awhile  their 
gums  began  to  bleed  and  their  teeth  loosened.  Their  joints 

95 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

swelled  and  the  flesh  became  soft.  If  a  finger  was  pressed 
hard  into  the  fleshy  part  of  the  arm,  it  left  a  dent  that  re- 
mained for  hours.  We  did  not  suffer  so  much  from  scurvy 
at  Cantonment  Miller  as  did  the  soldiers  at  Fort  Pierre.  The 
few  serious  cases  we  had  we  sent  to  the  hospital  there.  Little 
could  be  done  for  them,  except  to  give  them  lime-juice,  which 
was  among  the  medical  stores.  With  great  trouble  some  pota- 
toes were  obtained  during  the  winter  from  the  "States,"  as  we 
called  it.  These  were  given  to  the  sick,  raw,  scraped  fine  and 
mixed  with  vinegar  and  improved  their  condition  very  much. 
However,  a  few  men  died  of  the  diesase  in  the  hospital  at  Fort 
Pierre.  In  the  early  spring,  when  the  snow  melted,  we  dug 
up  roots  that  grew  in  the  woods,  a  few  inches  below  the  ground 
as  we  saw  the  squaws  do.  The  roots  resembled  a  thin  sweet  po- 
tato in  shape  and  were  white  in  color.  They  could  be  eaten 
raw  or  boiled  and  were  quite  mealy  and  palatable.  Not  know- 
ing the  proper  name  for  these  roots  we  called  them  artichokes. 
The  sick  improved  rapidly  upon  eating  them,  and  as  spring 
progressed,  they  all  recovered. 

An  Indian  camp  of  about  twenty  lodges,  belonging  to  the 
Yonktonna  tribe  of  the  Dakotas,  had  located  within  easy  dis- 
tance of  Cantonment  Miller  and  remained  there  until  the  fol- 
lowing spring.  We  soon  had  a  well  beaten  path  through  the 
deep  snow  leading  to  the  camp.  There  I  had  the  best  oppor- 
tunity during  my  entire  service  to  observe  the  Indians  closely 
in  their  domestic  relations.  I  became  known  to  some  of  them 
myself  and  made  progress  in  the  study  of  their  language.  For 
a  period  of  more  than  five  months,  I  went  to  the  camp  very 
often  in  the  day  time  and  sometimes  in  the  evening.  I  often 
remained  for  hours  in  one  or  two  of  some  half  a  dozen  lodges 
which  I  had  selected  as  my  favorites,  after  having  made  the 
round  of  the  entire  camp.  The  lodges  had  fires  in  them  and 
were  warmer  and  more  comfortable  than  our  huts  and  never 
ceased  to  interest  me.  The  Indians  seemed  to  have  plenty  to 
eat  and  lived  quite  comfortably.  They  had  stores  of  pemican, 
corn,  roots,  dried  fruits  and  buffalo  tallow,  which  had  been 

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TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

melted  and  put  into  bladders  for  preservation.  They  also  had 
some  game  when  the  bucks  went  hunting. 

I  was  invited  to  eat  with  them  and  did  so  a  few  times  when 
they  had  cooked  meat  of  some  sort;  but  I  excused  myself 
when  I  saw  any  mysterious  dish.  I  brought  them  some  coffee 
and  sugar  once  in  a  while  and  showed  the  squaws  how  to  make 
coffee,  of  which  they  became  very  fond.  When  any  of  them 
visited  the  cantonment,  which  happened  almost  daily,  I  often 
gave  those  that  I  knew,  part  of  my  ration  of  bread  for  the 
papooses,  or  a  piece  of  tobacco  for  the  bucks.  This,  in  a  meas- 
ure, repaid  their  hospitality.  A  singular  thing  which  I  no- 
ticed was  that  many  of  their  children,  from  about  three  to 
five  years  of  age,  had  abnormally  developed  paunches,  which 
made  them  look  ridiculous  when  they  toddled  almost  naked 
about  the  teepee. 

When  the  children  attained  their  fifth  or  sixth  year  they  be- 
came slender  and  graceful.  I  was  told  that  an  almost  constant 
meat  diet  was  supposed  to  be  the  cause  of  their  curious  de- 
velopment. 

One  day  I  saw  a  little  toddler  step  into  his  father's  dish  of 
food.  The  man,  without  a  word  of  scolding,  took  off  the 
child's  moccasin,  scraped  it  clean  with  his  horn  spoon,  then 
dug  a  hole  in  the  dirt  floor  beside  his  dish,  buried  and  covered 
up  the  scrapings  and  continued  his  meal,  undisturbed  by  the 
incident. 

Both  parents  showed  affection  for  their  children,  and  in  my 
presence,  at  least,  I  never  saw  the  Indians  act  with  brutality 
toward  their  squaws  or  children.  The  children  had  dolls  and 
played  much  as  white  children  do.  The  older  boys  often  prac- 
tised shooting  at  a  mark  with  a  bow  and  arrow.  They  were 
very  shy  with  the  soldiers  and  so  were  the  wolfish  looking 
dogs.  It  was  almost  impossible  to  win  the  confidence  of  either. 
Nevertheless,  a  soldier  of  company  I  got  the  consent  of  the 
parents  to  take  an  Indian  boy  to  our  quarters  and  keep  him 
there.  He  made  a  suit  of  soldier's  clothes  for  him  and  slept 
with  him  all  the  winter.  "Paddy,"  as  we  called  him,  became 

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TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

quite  a  pet  in  the  company  and  was  learning  English  with  a 
comical  Irish  accent,  acquired  from  his  tutor,  when  his  mother 
came  and  took  him  away  in  the  spring.  At  the  same  time  the 
rest  of  the  Indians  went  away,  and  we  never  saw  or  heard  of 
him  again. 

The  Indians  played  games  among  themselves,  and  the  sol- 
diers tried  to  teach  them  the  use  of  cards,  but  they  were  un- 
able to  learn  or  understand  the  simplest  of  such  games.  We, 
therefore,  invented  a  special  game  for  them,  in  which  the 
greatest  number  of  spots  on  a  card  took  the  trick,  for  they 
could  count  up  to  ten  at  least.  They  admired  the  Jacks  more 
than  the  Kings.  They  were  the  big  chiefs  and  the  Kings  next. 
Any  card  could  beat  the  Queen,  which  was  the  "Wee-a"  or 
squaw.  They  took  great  interest  in  this  game.  I  could  do  a 
few  simple  tricks  with  cards,  which  mystified  and  amused 
them.  Some  of  them  had  a  considerable  sense  of  humor  and 
often  laughed  heartily. 

I  was  shown  some  Indian  scalps,  which  had  long  black  hair 
dangling  from  them.  The  skin  was  soft,  and  looked  and  felt 
as  though  it  had  been  tanned.  To  me  it  seemed  very  thick.  I 
do  not  know  if  they  had  any  white  scalps.  If  so,  they  never 
showed  us  any. 

Sometimes  one  of  the  Indians  produced  a  buckskin  bag  or- 
namented with  beads,  wherein  he  kept  his  most  cherished 
treasures,  and  drew  therefrom  a  written  paper,  which  some 
white  trader  or  hunter  had  given  to  him.  This  he  would 
proudly  hand  to  us  for  examination.  These  papers  were  very 
much  of  the  same  tone  as  this  model:  "O-kee-ha  (red  heart) 
is  a  good  and  trustworthy  Indian,  and  I  recommend  him  to 
anyone  who  wants  a  safe  guide  and  a  good  hunter."  One  of 
the  Indians  had  several  such  papers,  one  of  which  he  would 
always  show  last.  This  had  evidently  been  written  by  some 
wag  or,  perhaps,  a  truthful  man,  and  ran  something  like  this : 
"Beware  of  this  Indian,  Big  Crow,  he  is  a  thief  and  a  liar,  and 
will  murder  you  if  he  gets  a  chance.  Take  warning !"  As  this 
paper  never  failed  to  provoke  a  laugh,  he  no  doubt  set  a 
greater  value  on  it  than  on  all  the  others  he  owned. 

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TEN   YEARS   IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

When  the  weather  was  bad  I  sometimes  watched  the  bucks 
making  arrows  and  pipes,  while  the  squaws  were  industriously 
employed  on  moccasins  or  some  article  of  clothing.  The  mak- 
ing of  arrows  was  quite  a  delicate  operation,  with  the  few 
tools  they  had.  The  stem  of  the  arrow  had  to  be  true,  straight 
and  balanced  properly.  The  feathers  must  be  carefully  glued 
on  and  the  head  firmly  affixed  with  sinew,  thread  and  gum. 
Metal  arrow  heads  were  made  by  laboriously  grinding  pieces 
of  hoopiron,  or  the  like,  which  they  had  picked  up  somewhere, 
to  the  required  size  and  shape.  Other  heads  were  made  of 
chipped  flint.  War  arrow  heads  were  made  with  sharp  barbs 
to  prevent  them  from  being  easily  extracted. 

Some  of  the  pipes  they  manufactured  were  plain,  and  others 
handsomely  inlaid  with  lead.  They  were  made  of  a  dense, 
fine  grained  but  soft  working  stone  of  a  beautiful  red  color. 
To  obtain  this  stone  they  made  long  and  weary  journeys  to 
the  Pipe  Mountain,  which  was  somewhere  in  the  northern 
part  of  Minnesota  Territory.  There,  it  is  said,  they  prayed 
to  the  Great  Spirit  before  removing  any  of  the  stone  which 
they  esteemed  so  highly.  The  pipes  were  carefully  bored  and 
finished  with  a  high  polish,  which  took  many  hours  of  patient 
labor.  The  long  pipe  stems  were  made  of  some  tough,  flexible 
wood,  the  same  that  they  made  their  bows  of.  They  were 
round  or  flat  in  shape,  sometimes  twisted,  and  the  wood  pol- 
ished and  ornamented.  The  hole  through  the  stem  was  made 
slowly  and  carefully  with  a  piece  of  wire  heated  red  hot.  The 
mouth  piece  was  neatly  tapered  and  rounded.  These  pipes 
were  a  valuable  article  of  trade.  A  fine  pipe  was  worth  a  pony 
in  trade  with  the  Indians  in  remote  parts  of  the  country.  I 
bought  one  and  paid  a  good  price  for  it.  I  had  great  difficulty 
to  persuade  an  Indian  to  sell  me  a  piece  of  the  stone  to  make  a 
pipe  for  myself. 

I  have  at  times  witnessed  the  entire  performance  of  an  In- 
dian feast.  A  squaw  selected  a  fat-looking  dog,  and  tied  him 
fast  in  some  secluded  place  for  several  days,  giving  him  noth- 
ing to  eat,  and  only  water  to  drink.  She  then  fed  him  with  a 

99 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

mixture  of  pemican  and  dried  fruits  made  into  a  moist  soft 
paste,  and  let  him  eat  all  he  could  of  it.  This,  I  suppose,  was 
to  serve  as  a  stuffing  or  forcemeat,  for  she  killed  him  by 
knocking  him  on  the  head  with  a  tomahawk,  before  digestion 
commenced.  His  hind  legs  were  then  tied  together,  and  he 
was  hung  by  a  cord  head  down  from  a  pole  supported  on  two 
forked  sticks  over  a  low  fire.  With  a  firebrand  the  squaw 
burnt  off  every  hair  on  his  body  close  to  the  skin,  and  rubbed 
him  with  buffalo  fat.  The  squaw  would  sit  for  many  hours 
turning  and  basting  the  carcass  with  melted  fat.  The  dog  was 
thus  roasted  whole,  for  he  had  not  been  disemboweled.  In  the 
evening  the  family  were  joined  by  relatives  and  friends  whom 
they  had  invited.  The  teepee  was  well  crowded  when  the  feast 
commenced.  The  dog  was  cut  up,  and  all  gorged  themselves 
to  their  full  capacity.  The  most  desired  morsels  seemed  to  be 
the  bowels  and  other  soft  parts.  When  the  eating  was  over, 
the  squaws  beat  the  drums,  chanted  songs,  and  all  made  merry 
until  long  after  we  soldiers  were  in  bed.  I  looked  in  at  some 
of  these  feasts  and  was  invited  to  partake.  Although  it  was 
considered  an  honor,  I  declined.  A  few  of  the  soldiers  did  eat 
some  roasted  dog,  and  declared  it  tasted  good.  The  Indians 
preferred  it  to  the  finest  venison. 

There  was  a  young  soldier  in  my  company,  who  became  so 
infatuated  with  the  Indian  life  that  he  spent  every  spare  min- 
ute in  their  camp.  He  made  great  progress  in  learning  their 
language,  and  never  missed  a  dog  feast.  He  was  a  black  haired, 
dark-complexioned  man,  who  tried  to  make  himself  look  as 
much  like  an  Indian  as  possible  by  plucking  out  all  the  hair 
that  grew  on  his  face.  In  the  spring,  when  the  Indians  broke 
camp  and  departed,  he  was  missed  a  day  or  two  later.  We 
learned  that  he  had  joined  the  tribe,  but  no  effort  was  then 
made  to  recapture  him. 

During  the  long,  cold  winter  we  got  a  mail  from  the  "States" 
about  once  in  three  weeks.  It  went  to  Fort  Pierre  and  was 
sent  to  us  from  there. 

There  was  no  sutler    at    Cantonment    Miller.     When  we 

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TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

wanted  anything  from  the  store,  we  had  to  go  five  miles  to  Fort 
Pierre  for  it  or  have  it  brought  by  a  comrade  who  made  the 
trip. 

One  calm  sunny  morning — we  had  a  few  such  days — when 
the  thermometer  was  but  a  few  degrees  below  zero,  another 
boy  and  I  got  a  pass  to  go  to  the  fort.  Not  anticipating  any 
change  in  the  weather,  we  did  not  dress  ourselves  quite  so 
warmly  as  we  should  have  done,  for  zero  was  considered  a 
comfortable  temperature  if  the  wind  was  not  blowing,  and  we 
discarded  some  of  our  heaviest  furs  when  the  temperature  was 
at  that  point  or  higher.  We  two  boys  crossed  the  Missouri  on 
the  ice  and  walked  down  to  the  fort  on  the  opposite  side,  which 
was  less  hilly  than  the  east  bank.  We  made  a  few  purchases 
at  the  sutler's  store,  visited  our  friends  and  had  dinner  with 
them.  It  became  much  colder  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  the 
wind  began  to  blow.  We  were  admonished  to  return  early, 
which  we  did ;  but  by  the  time  we  had  come  about  half  way  the 
wind  was  blowing  a  gale  and  the  cold  was  increasing.  We 
tried  to  cross  the  river  and  gain  the  woods  on  the  other  side, 
but  the  bare  ice  was  as  slippery  as  glass.  The  fierce  wind 
knocked  us  over,  and  blew  us  like  corks  along  on  the  ice.  With 
great  exertion  we  crawled  on  shore  and  got  into  a  ravine  where 
we  were  partly  sheltered  from  the  wind.  Here  we  kept  in 
motion.  There  was  no  wood  to  make  a  fire  and  to  sit  down 
meant  freezing  to  death.  We  had  our  mittens  and  our  fur 
caps  protected  our  ears,  but  our  noses  and  cheeks  turned  white 
with  frost,  and  we  rubbed  them  with  snow  several  times.  I 
think  we  both  feared  that  we  would  perish  in  that  ravine,  when 
suddenly,  as  daylight  began  to  fade,  the  wind  died  down  and 
we  were  able  to  proceed.  We  arrived  at  our  quarters  half 
frozen,  and  it  took  some  days  to  recover. 

There  was  an  officer  at  Cantonment  Miller  named  James 
Curtis  who  was  the  First  Lieutenant  of  Company  B.  He 
singled  me  out  from  among  the  boys  and  was  most  kind  to  me. 

While  stationed  at  Fort  Pierre  I  had  bought  a  flute  from  a 
member  of  the  band,  and  took  lessons  from  him.  As  I  under- 
stood something  about  music  and  played  on  the  fife,  I  made 

101 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

rapid  progress  on  the  flute  and  had  become  a  fair  player  when 
Lieutenant  Curtis  asked  me  to  come  to  his  lonely  cabin  and 
play  duets  with  him.  He  was  an  excellent  player,  and  had  a 
lot  of  music  books,  also  works  on  history,  science,  etc.  In  fact, 
he  owned  quite  a  little  library,  for  he  was  a  great  student  and 
did  not  spend  his  time  drinking  whiskey  and  playing  cards  like 
some  of  the  other  officers  did.  He  loaned  me  books  to  read 
and  gave  me  lessons  to  study,  which  I  recited  to  him  and  he 
corrected  my  exercises.  After  these  lessons  we  played  music 
until  tattoo.  This  went  on  for  there  or  four  nights  a  week, 
while  we  were  at  the  cantonment.  I  learned  more  during  that 
time  than  during  all  my  previous  schooling. 

Lieutenant  Curtis  was  a  graduate  of  West  Point.  Very 
much  to  my  regret  he  resigned  his  commission  in  the  spring  to 
enter  civil  life.  He  rejoined  the  army  in  1861,  and  served  in 
the  West  during  the  Civil  War.  I  never  met  him  again,  and 
do  not  know  whether  he  is  still  living,  but  I  remember  him  as 
a  man  who  befriended  me  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  I  shall  always 
entertain  the  most  profound  feeling  of  gratitude  toward  him. 

A  contrast  to  Lieut.  Curtis  was  the  officer  who  commanded 
the  company  which  wintered  on  the  island  below  Fort  Pierre. 
He  was  always  more  or  less  under  the  influence  of  liquor  and 
abused  the  men  in  his  command.  In  one  of  his  drunken  fits 
he  shot  a  private  of  his  company,  wounding  him  so  severely 
the  man  died  a  few  days  after.  A  pretense  of  an  investigation 
was  made.  It  was  called  an  accident  and  hushed  up,  though 
the  man  was  deliberately  shot  while  lying  in  his  tent  after  he 
had  had  some  words  with  the  officer.  Two  years  later  his 
slayer  died  wretchedly  of  delirium  tremens  at  another  military 
post. 

In  the  early  part  of  April  we  were  startled  one  night  by  loud 
reports  like  the  firing  of  a  heavy  cannon.  This  was  caused  by 
the  cracking  of  the  thick  ice,  which  began  to  break  up  and 
move  in  a  day  or  two  and  afforded  an  interesting  spectacle. 
Some  time  later  the  river  began  to  rise  until  it  overflowed  its 
banks,  and  was  miles  wide  in  the  low  lands.  Then  there  came 

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TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

drift  wood  in  enormous  quantities.  For  several  days  at  a  time 
the  river  would  be  covered  with  it  from  shore  to  shore  at  the 
narrower  places.  It  seemed  as  though  a  man  could  walk  across 
on  the  floating  logs.  The  high  water  continued  for  a  long  time. 
It  fell  very  slowly  and  some  time  in  May  it  seemed  stationary 
for  a  while  as  the  snows  melted  much  further  north.  We  were 
cut  off  from  all  communication  with  Fort  Pierre  for  a  time, 
until  boats  could  cross  the  river  after  the  flood  subsided. 

The  Indians  began  to  make  preparations  for  departure.  The 
squaws  were  busy  dressing  such  skins  as  they  had  not  tanned 
before  cold  weather.  This  they  did  by  stretching  them  on  an 
upright  framework  made  of  poles  lashed  together.  Then  they 
scraped  them  thin  with  a  steel  scraper  and  treated  them  wtih 
a  preparation  that  made  them  soft  and  pliable. 

About  the  first  week  in  May,  when  their  ponies  had  attained 
a  fair  condition,  they  struck  their  tents  one  day  and  disap- 
peared over  the  hills. 

We  received  orders  to  abandon  Cantonment  Miller  and  re- 
turn to  Fort  Pierre,  where  all  of  General  Harney's  troops  were 
to  be  assembled  for  a  great  treaty  that  was  soon  to  be  made 
there  with  the  Indians.  We  crossed  the  river  in  a  Mackinaw 
boat  belonging  to  the  American  Fur  Company.  These  were 
large,  flat-bottomed  boats  with  tapering  prows  and  square 
sterns.  They  were  used  by  the  company  to  carry  furs  from 
its  more  northern  posts  on  the  Missouri  and  Yellowstone  rivers. 

We  went  into  camp  after  we  crossed  the  river  as  it  was  too 
late  to  march  to  Fort  Pierre  that  day,  and  had  just  finished 
putting  up  our  tents,  when  a  tremendous  wind  storm  struck  us. 
It  blew  down  the  tents  and  scattered  them  as  well  as  every 
other  movable  article  over  the  prairie.  It  was  all  over  in  a 
short  time,  but  we  slept  without  tents  that  night.  Next  day 
after  picking  up  all  of  the  articles  we  could  find,  and  loading 
them  on  wagons,  we  marched  to  Fort  Pierre  and  went  into 
permanent  camp  close  to  the  stockade.  Within  a  few  days  all 
of  the  troops  had  assembled,  and  encamped  there. 

In  March  General  Harney  had  sent  messages  to  all  the  tribes 

103 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

of  the  Dakotas,  to  assemble  at  Fort  Pierre  on  May  twentieth 
for  a  council  treaty. 

The  Indians  had  some  way  of  noting  the  date,  probably  by 
tally  on  a  stick  of  wood.  I  think  that  representatives  from  al! 
the  Dakotas  were  present  on  that  day,  except  the  B rules  and 
the  Ogallalas,  who  had  been  so  severely  punished  the  previous 
September. 

The  Indians  began  to  arrive  about  ten  days  before  the  ap- 
pointed time,  and  soon  the  great  plain  about  Fort  Pierre  was 
dotted  with  nearly  a  thousand  teepees. 

Each  of  the  tribes  had  a  large  representation  of  men,  women 
and  some  children.  It  was  estimated  that  seven  thousand  were 
present,  of  whom  one-third  were  warriors.  It  was  a  grand 
spectacle,  such  an  assemblage  of  Indians  had  not  been  seen 
for  many  years.  Among  them  were  proud  and  magnificent 
savages  who  had  traveled  long  distances  to  be  present. 

As  soon  as  the  arriving  Indians  became  numerous,  we  were 
forbidden  to  visit  their  camp.  Neither  were  the  Indians  al- 
lowed within  the  sentinel  lines  of  ours.  At  night  the  sentry 
posts  were  doubled  and  extra  ammunition  was  issued.  We 
practically  slept  on  our  arms  while  the  council  lasted,  for  their 
warriors  outnumbered  us  at  least  three  to  one.  Our  garrison 
and  camp  were  open  to  an  attack  from  all  sides,  and  the  temper 
of  so  great  a  bocty  of  Indians  was  very  uncertain. 

On  the  appointed  day  the  council  commenced.  At  first  only 
a  few  hundred  of  the  chiefs  and  other  head  men  of  the  tribes 
were  present.  The  council  was  held  outside  of  the  stockade, 
the  Indians  sitting  on  the  grass  in  a  semi-circle  facing  the  Gen- 
eral. With  the  commandant  were  some  other  officers,  clerks 
and  interpreters,  a  few  orderlies  and  a  small  guard  of  soldiers. 
These  were  all  on  a  slightly  raised  platform,  the  officers  being 
seated  in  front.  The  dignified,  white-haired  general  was  in 
the  center  and  his  imposing  figure  towered  above  all  the  others. 

We  could  only  view  the  council  from  a  distance,  as  sentinels 
kept  us  beyond  a  certain  boundary.  But  we  could  observe  the 
dramatic  gestures  of  the  Indian  orators  and  hear  the  grunts 

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TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

of  approval.  What  the  great  talk  was  all  about  we  did  not 
know. 

The  council  went  on  in  this  way  for  three  to  four  days. 
On  the  fourth  or  fifth  day  the  meeting  commenced  earlier, 
and  nearly  all  the  warriors,  to  the  number  of  several  thou- 
sand, were  present.  They  were  painted,  and  their  lustrous 
dark  skins  glistened  in  the  bright  sunlight  when  they  had 
cast  off  their  robes  and  blankets.  It  was  a  sight  long  to  be 
remembered,  and  the  like  of  it  was  probably  never  seen  in 
after  years.  On  this  day  a  treaty  of  peace  was  concluded. 
The  Indians  buried  the  hatchet,  as  it  was  customary  to  say. 
The  Sioux  War  was  over,  and  during  our  stay  in  their 
country  we  had  no  more  serious  trouble  with  them.  It  was 
only  after  the  withdrawal  of  the  regular  soldiers  to  take  part 
in  the  Civil  War  that  they  became  unruly  again,  and  com- 
mitted atrocities  among  the  settlers  of  Minnesota  in  1862. 

On  the  night  of  the  day  when  the  treaty  had  been  con- 
cluded there  seemed  to  be  a  great  "pow-wow"  in  the  Indian 
camp.  We  could  hear  the  tom-toms,  and  the  voices  of  the 
bucks  and  squaws  until  early  morning.  On  the  following 
afternoon  we  were  treated  to  a  remarkable  sight.  Two  thou- 
sand Indians  marched  to  the  stockade,  where  General  Har- 
ney  had  his  headquarters,  and  saluted  his  appearance  by 
blowing  on  reed  musical  instruments  made  from  willows 
which  grew  abundantly  along  the  river.  At  the  same  time  a 
large  number  of  squaws  beat  on  drums.  The  curious  noise 
could  be  heard  for  miles  around. 

While  the  council  was  on,  the  first  steamboat  of  the  sea- 
son or  "wa-ta-pe-ta-choo-choo,"  as  the  Indians  called  it,  ar- 
rived. It  was  the  Genoa,  which  had  brought  my  company 
up  the  river  the  previous  summer.  With  her  arrived  a  pay- 
master and  Lieutenant  Gouverneur  K.  Warren,  who  later  com- 
manded the  Fifth  Army  Corps  in  the  Civil  War.  He  was  to 
make  surveys  in  the  Dakota  country  and  was  accompanied  by 
some  scientists.  My  regiment  furnished  him  with  an  escort, 
who  traveled  with  him  until  fall.  He  returned  the  follow- 
ing season  and  continued  his  surveys. 

105 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Many  of  the  Indians  present  had  never  seen  a  steamboat. 
Hundreds  of  them  and  their  squaws  lined  the  river  bank,  when 
the  Genoa  was  sighted.  They  noted  the  puffs  of  steam  ejected 
by  her  engines,  and  declared  that  the  wa-ta-pe-ta  was  puffing, 
out  of  breath,  and  tired  out  after  her  long  journey. 

The  Indians  had  brought  great  quantities  of  furs  with  them, 
and  trading  with  the  American  Fur  Company  and  the  sutler 
was  brisk.  The  Genoa  on  her  return  trip  could  carry  only 
a  part  of  the  vast  quantity  of  furs  the  company  had  accumu- 
lated. Some  of  the  Indians  departed  a  few  days  after  the  treaty 
was  made.  Others  lingered  for  a  while,  but  in  about  two 
weeks  nearly  all  had  disappeared.  When  their  numbers  had 
materially  diminished,  restrictions  against  visiting  their  camps 
were  withdrawn,  and  I  had  interesting  experiences  in  observ- 
ing the  customs  and  manners  of  some  far  away  tribes,  whom 
I  was  not  likely  ever  to  see  again. 

About  the  first  of  June  orders  were  issued  to  abandon  Fort 
Pierre,  as  it  was  most  unsuitable  for  a  military  post.  The 
troops  who  had  come  from  Fort  Laramie  in  the  fall  returned 
there,  and  of  my  regiment  four  companies  and  the  band  took 
up  their  march  to  a  point  on  the  Missouri,  a  few  hundred 
miles  below  Fort  Pierre,  where  they  built  a  post  called  Fort 
Randall.  The  other  two  companies,  B  and  D,  marched  to 
a  place  on  the  Missouri,  midway  between  Forts  Pierre  and 
Randall,  to  establish  Fort  Lookout. 

The  remaining  portable  houses  at  Fort  Pierre  were  taken 
down  and  with  other  materials  were  put  on  rafts  and  floated 
down  the  river  to  be  re-used  in  building  quarters  at  the  two 
new  posts. 

Our  experience  since  we  arrived  at  Fort  Pierre  had  been 
very  trying  through  the  incompetency  or  carelessness  of  some 
one  in  authority.  We  were  ill  prepared  for  the  rigors  of  so 
severe  a  climate  as  to  clothing,  food,  quarters  and  medical 
stores.  Men  died  from  exposure  and  from  scurvy,  and  many 
animals  succumbed  to  starvation.  Officers  and  soldiers  suf- 
fered alike.  The  miserable  huts  in  which  we  lived  during 

106 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

the  winter  were  unfit  for  stables.     We  almost  froze  in  them, 
and  when  the  spring  came,  the  mud  roofs  leaked  like  sieves. 

I  look  back  upon  the  winter  passed  at  Fort  Pierre  as  one 
of  great  suffering  and  hardship,  by  far  the  worst  that  I 
went  through  during  my  service. 


107 


PART  V. 
ESTABLISHING  FORT  LOOKOUT,   1856-1857. 

COMPANIES  B  and  D  left  Fort  Pierre  the  first  week 
in  June,   1856,   on  their  way  to  the  site  upon  which 
Fort   Lookout   was   to   be   built.     Captain   Nathaniel 
Lyon  of  Company  B,  being  the  ranking  officer,  was  in  com- 
mand.    Captain   Gardner   of   my   company   and   three   lieu- 
tenants were  the  only  other  officers  present.     The  details  of 
this  march,  although  a  short  one,  will  serve,  except  as  to 
special  incidents,  as  a  description  of  all  other  marches  that 
we  made  on  the  prairies. 

We  ascended  the  hills  west  of  Fort  Pierre  to  gain  the 
higher  tableland  in  order  to  avoid  the  many  ravines  and 
small  creeks  that  flowed  into  the  Missouri  river,  which  we 
did  not  sight  again  until  we  reached  our  destination.  The 
order  of  march  for  large  or  small  columns  of  troops  was 
as  follows :  First  came  the  guides,  either  Indians,  half-breeds 
or  hunters,  riding  on  ponies  some  distance  in  advance  and 
sometimes  going  ahead  for  miles  to  search  for  a  suitable 
point  to  ford  a  stream  or  locate  a  camp.  When  no  guides 
were  present  the  desired  direction  was  kept  by  means  of  a 
compass,  for  there  were  no  roads,  nothing  but  an  occasional 
trail,  made  by  Indian  travoys  which  the  weather  soon  ob- 
literated. At  times  there  was  not  a  hill,  tree  nor  bush  in 
sight.  Only  flat  or  rolling  prairie  land  met  the  eye  all  day 
long,  and  it  was  easy  to  lose  direction  on  a  cloudy  day  with- 
out a  compass.  Officers  in  command  of  troops  marching 
through  an  unknown  country  were  obliged  to  keep  a  journal 
and  draw  rough  maps  of  the  route,  showing  the  water  courses, 

109 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

springs,  hills,  woods,  camping  places  and  all  points  worthy 
of  notice,  also  the  approximate  distances  between  them. 
These  journals  and  maps  were  afterwards  forwarded  to  the 
War  Department,  to  serve  for  future  information. 

After  the  guides,  our  small  column  was  led  by  Captains 
Lyon  and  Gardner  and  one  of  the  lieutenants,  another  lieu- 
tenant was  in  the  rear  of  the  column,  and  the  acting  quar- 
termaster was  with  the  wagon  train.  All  of  the  officers  were 
mounted,  some  at  their  own  expense  on  ponies  they  had 
bought  from  the  Indians,  as  in  an  infantry  regiment  the  regu- 
lations only  allowed  horses  and  forage  for  the  colonel,  major, 
surgeon,  adjutant  and  quartermaster,  or  for  officers  tem- 
porarily acting  as  such.  For  a  year  or  more  we  had  no  medical 
officer,  only  a  hospital  steward.  There  was  but  little  sickness, 
and  we  got  along  very  well  without  a  doctor.  Following  the 
leading  officers,  came  the  musicians,  and  we  boys  were  rather 
proud  to  be  able  to  set  the  pace  for  the  entire  column.  Be- 
hind us  marched  the  soldiers  by  fours  at  a  route  step  carrying 
their  arms  "at  will."  The  company  in  advance  to-day  was 
the  rear  company  to-morrow.  Following  the  soldiers  was 
the  wagon  train  and  behind  that  marched  the  camp  guard, 
bringing  up  the  rear.  We  never  carried  any  knapsacks  on 
this  kind  of  marches  on  the  frontiers.  We  always  had  wagons 
enough  to  carry  the  tents,  knapsacks,  provisions  and  forage. 
Each  soldier  carried  his  arms  and  accoutrements,  his  canteen 
and  his  haversack,  which  contained  only  enough  provisions 
for  a  noon-day  meal.  The  musicians  carried  only  a  sword, 
canteen  and  haversack. 

The  speed  at  which  we  marched  was  generally  about  three 
miles  per  hour,  or  less,  if  the  route  was  hilly  or  the  march- 
ing difficult.  About  every  five  miles  we  halted  for  a  rest  of 
fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  with  a  somewhat  longer  rest  in 
the  middle  of  the  day.  The  distance  we  marched  each  day 
averaged  less  than  twenty  miles,  but  it  -was  irregular,  for 
camping  places  had  to  be  selected  with  an  eye  to  obtaining 
wood  and  water.  Some  days  we  marched  only  about  fifteen 

110 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

miles  while  on  others  we  had  to  make  more  than  twenty- 
five.  On  a  few  occasions  we  camped  on  the  prairie,  where 
there  was  neither  wood  nor  water.  We  brought  a  scant  supply 
with  us  in  our  wagons  from  the  previous  camp.  Buffalo 
chips  (dung)  were  sometimes  used  instead  of  wood  and  made 
a  sufficiently  hot  fire  to  cook  with. 

The  army  wagons  had  canvas  covers  and  looked  something 
like  the  "Prairie  Schooners"  used  by  the  emigrants  in  cross- 
ing the  plains.  There  was  a  seat  and  a  locker  across  the 
front  and  a  detachable  feed-box  across  the  rear.  They  were 
provided  with  strong  brakes.  A  team  of  six  mules  was 
hitched  to  each  wagon,  the  pair  in  front  were  called  "leaders," 
and  were  the  smallest  mules  in  the  team,  next  came  the 
"swings,"  a  little  larger  and  last  the  "wheelers,"  which  were 
the  largest  and  strongest  mules  of  the  lot.  One  of  the  wheel 
mules  had  a  saddle  on  him  on  which  the  driver  was  mounted, 
who,  with  only  a  single  line  and  the  aid  of  a  long  whip,  drove 
the  team. 

The  drivers  were  generally  citizen  employes  of  the  Quarter- 
master's Department,  if  they  could  be  had,  or  soldiers  who 
volunteered  for  the  job.  These  were  detailed  on  "extra  duty," 
as  it  was  called.  Twenty-five  cents  per  day  from  the  quarter- 
master was  added  to  their  regular  monthly  pay,  for  which 
they  were  obliged  to  sign  a  roll.  One  of  them  wrote  Thomas 
O'Brien,  M.  D.,  and  when  asked  to  explain  the  meaning  of 
the  two  letters  after  his  name,  said  they  stood  for  mule  driver. 
It  was  hard  work  driving  mule  teams  where  there  were  no 
roads.  Steep  hills  and  deep  declivities,  streams  and  water 
courses,  soon  made  most  of  the  drivers  experts  in  profanity. 
They  had  names  for  all  their  mules,  and  we  often  heard  one 
of  them  urging  his  team  through  a  bad  place  with  such  words 
of  encouragement  as  these:  "Now,  Mary  Jane!  pull  like  a 
good  girl ;  pull,  girl !"  or  "You,  there,  Pete !  you  black-hearted 
,  I'll  cut  the  hide  off  you,  if  you  don't  pull !" 

On  marches,  reveille  was  sounded  at  day-break  or  even 
earlier  if  there  was  a  long  day's  march  ahead.  Immediately 

111 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

after  roll  call  we  had  our  breakfast  of  salt  pork  or  bacon, 
hard-tack  and  black  coffee,  which  the  company  cooks  had 
already  prepared  at  their  camp  fire.  Then  the  "General"  was 
beaten  by  one  of  the  drummers.  This  was  the  signal  to 
"strike  tents"  and  pack  the  wagons.  Soon  after  sunrise  we 
formed  ranks  and  marched  off.  This  was  the  time  when  we 
felt  fresh  after  a  good  night's  rest.  There  was  talking,  laughing 
and  joking  in  the  ranks.  Sometimes  a  song  was  started 
and  many  joined  in  the  chorus. 

After  about  two  hours  of  marching  this  exhilaration  grad- 
ually died  down  and  when  the  sun  got  high  and  began  to 
scorch  us — for  it  could  be  as  hot  in  the  summer  on  the  plains 
as  it  was  cold  in  winter — the  voices  were  stilled.  We  trudged 
on  noiselessly  save  for  the  rattling  of  the  tin  cups  and  can- 
teens or  the  sharp  rebuke  of  one  soldier  to  another,  who  had 
perhaps  jostled  him,  which  was  always  annoying  to  a 
weary  man. 

The  officers  also  enjoyed  the  cool  of  the  morning.  After 
the  column  had  marched  a  while,  I  was  often  called  by  one 
of  them  to  ride  his  horse,  while  he  marched  four  or  five  miles. 
I  would  very  much  have  preferred  this  ride  at  the  end  of 
the  march  when  I  would  have  enjoyed  the  rest.  But  I  was 
always  a  good  marcher  and  sometimes,  when  I  felt  like  fall- 
ing out,  my  pride  kept  me  up  until  we  reached  camp. 

The  first  day's  march  revealed  the  presence  of  a  flat-footed 
man  in  the  command  who  could  not  march  more  than  a  few 
miles,  after  which  he  had  to  ride  in  one  of  the  wagons.  He 
was  discharged  as  soon  as  transportation  to  the  settlement 
could  be  had.  Sick  or  exhausted  soldiers  were  permitted  to 
ride  in  the  wagons. 

So  fiercely  did  the  rays  of  the  sun  beat  down  on  the  hot 
prarie,  that  during  our  brief  periods  of  rest,  we  often  crawled 
under  the  wagons,  grateful  for  their  slight  shade  even  for  a 
short  time.  If  we  came  to  a  stream  that  could  be  forded  we 
took  off  our  shoes  and  stockings  and  sometimes  our  trousers, 
and  waded  across.  If  the  current  was  strong  we  grasped  each 

112 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

other  to  avoid  being  swept  off  our  feet.  On  the  opposite 
side  we  generally  halted  long  enough  to  refill  our  canteens 
and  rest. 

At  times  we  had  to  cross  a  river  too  deep  for  fording.  Then 
the  crossing  meant  several  days  of  hard  labor.  It  was  accom- 
plished by  taking  the  wagons  apart  and  making  boats  out  of 
their  bodies.  This  was  done  by  enveloping  the  wagon  bodies 
in  several  thicknesses  of  the  canvas  wagon  covers.  When  the 
crude  boats  would  float,  some  men  swam  across  pulling  a 
stout  rope  after  them.  They  secured  it  on  the  other  side  to 
guide  the  boats  in  crossing.  In  this  way  we  established  ferries 
capable  of  taking  all  the  men  and  freight  to  the  other  side. 
The  horses  and  mules  were  forced  to  swim  over.  A  few 
minor  accidents  occurred,  but  in  the  main  the  crossing  was 
successfully  although  slowly  made,  as  these  canvas  pontoon 
boats  could  carry  but  little  at  each  trip. 

On  a  few  occasions  we  saw  a  herd  of  buffalo  while  on 
the  march,  but  never  got  near  them.  We  seldom  met  any 
Indians  on  the  routes  we  traveled. 

When  we  had  a  short  day's  march,  we  got  into  camp  before 
noontime  if  the  route  had  been  favorable,  but  if  we  had  to 
march  twenty-five  miles  or  more,  it  was  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon  or  much  later  before  we  finally  halted.  The  first 
thing  we  did  was  to  stack  arms  and  lie  down  in  the  shade, 
if  there  was  any.  Tired  out,  we  went  to  sleep  while  waiting 
for  the  wagons  to  come  up.  At  the  end  of  the  day's  march 
they  were  often  some  miles  behind.  They  could  not  always 
make  the  short  cuts  that  we  could.  When  the  wagons  arrived 
we  unpacked  them  and  erected  our  tents.  Practice  made  us 
experts  at  this.  The  cooks  started  a  fire  and  prepared  a  meal, 
while  the  teamsters  parked  the  wagons,  unhitched  the  tired 
mules,  watered  and  fed  them,  and  then  picketed  them  on  the 
prairie  to  graze  and  rest. 

The  officers  had  wall-tents  for  their  use,  with  a  tent  fly  over 
them,  which  made  them  quite  comfortable  and  cool  when  the 
sides  were  turned  up.  The  soldiers  had  "Sibley"  tents  at  that 

113 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.  S.  ARMY 

time,  which  were  better  than  the  small  "A"  tents  previously 
used.  These  tents  were  the  invention  of  Col.  Henry  W.  Sib- 
ley  of  the  United  States  Army.  They  were  patterned  after 
the  Indian  teepee,  but  differed  from  them  in  that  but  one 
tent  pole  was  required.  This  fitted  into  the  socket  of  a  wrought 
iron  tripod  in  the  centre  of  the  tent  and  upheld  the  shelter. 
A  hood  on  top  could  be  opened  to  emit  the  smoke  from  a 
sheet  iron  stove  in  cold  weather.  These  tents,  conical  in  shape, 
were  large  enough  to  shelter  a  dozen  men  without  crowding. 

When  the  tents  had  all  been  set  up  in  "streets,"  we  fished  or 
went  in  bathing  if  the  water  was  suitable.  Fish  were  gen- 
erally plentiful  and  were  a  welcome  addition  to  our  rations. 
At  times  we  washed  our  clothing  in  the  streams,  for  the  laun- 
dresses did  not  perform  that  work  on  a  march  and  were  never 
with  the  troops  except  when  changing  stations.  On  these 
occasions  they  and  their  children  rode  in  the  wagons. 

Our  canteens  were  made  of  tin  covered  with  felt,  and  held 
about  three  pints.  An  old  soldier  taught  me  to  fill  my  can- 
teen with  water  in  the  evening,  saturating  the  felt  covering 
thoroughly.  By  hanging  it  up  exposed  to  the  air  during  the 
night,  the  water  would  be  kept  cool  until  morning.  Next  day 
I  was  careful  to  keep  the  canteen  on  my  shady  side  while 
marching.  In  this  way  I  had  a  cool  drink  for  a  much  longer 
time.  Sentinels  were  posted  about  the  camp  and  the  wagons 
at  night.  We  had  an  early  tattoo  and  slept  soundly  until 
daybreak  next  morning.  Rainy  days  added  much  to  our  dis- 
comfort while  marching  and  made  it  necessary  to  make  camp 
on  soaked  ground  while  our  clothing  was  drenched. 

We  had  half  a  dozen  dogs  with  us  on  the  march  to  Look- 
out, for  dogs  love  soldiers.  In  the  cool  part  of  the  morning 
they  ran  all  over  the  prairie  chasing  birds  or  prairie  dogs,  and 
tired  themselves  out  before  the  march  was  half  done.  When 
we  halted  for  a  rest  they  went  to  sleep,  and  it  was  difficult 
to  make  them  go  on  again,  except  one  wise  dog  who  always 
trotted  at  the  head  of  the  column  with  the  musicians  and 
never  wasted  his  energy  in  running  around  the  prairie.  At 

114 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

times  these  dogs  became  a  nuisance.  They  sometimes  got  to 
a  small  pond  or  water-hole  ahead  of  us,  and  by  swimming 
around  in  it  roiled  the  water  until  it  was  unfit  to  drink. 

Our  last  day's  march  was  long  and  hard,  but  we  cheered 
up  when  in  the  middle  of  the  hot  afternoon  we  sighted  the 
Missouri  River  about  five  miles  away.  It  was  hundreds  of 
feet  below  us,  for  we  were  up  on  a  high  range  of  hills,  which 
the  wagons  were  able  to  descend  only  by  making  long  detours. 

We  encamped  on  a  shady  spot  near  the  river  bank  and  re- 
mained there  for  two  days  while  Captain  Lyon  and  another 
officer  explored  the  region  for  the  most  suitable  place  for 
the  new  post.  Captain  Lyon  finally  selected  a  spot  three  miles 
below  our  camp  and  thirty  miles  south  of  the  Big  Bend  of 
the  Missouri  River.  We  moved  there  at  once  and  encamped 
until  our  quarters  were  completed  in  the  fall. 

The  site  for  Fort  Lookout  was  well  chosen.  The  river 
channel  was  on  that  side  and  the  banks  high  enough  not  to 
be  overflowed.  The  wooded  bottom  land  extended  two  hun- 
dred yards  back  from  the  river,  then  ascended  fifty  feet 
above  the  water  in  an  easy  grade  to  a  plateau.  Two  small 
water  courses  in  ravines  at  right  angles  to  the  river  and  about 
half-a-mile  apart  drained  the  plateau  on  which  the  post  was 
to  be  built.  About  a  mile  west  of  the  river  the  land  became 
rugged  and  hilly.  There  were  plenty  of  woods  in  sight  along 
the  river  bank  as  far  as  we  could  see. 

Captain  Nathaniel  Lyon  of  Company  B,  Second  United 
States  Infantry,  the  commanding  officer  under  whose  direc- 
tion Fort  Lookout  was  to  be  built,  was  a  native  of  Connecti- 
cut. He  was  of  average  size  with  sandy  hair  and  beard.  His 
voice  had  a  distinct  nasal  twang.  He  was  a  graduate  of 
West  Point  and  had  served  in  the  Mexican  War  and  in 
Florida.  He  was  a  strict  disciplinarian,  conscientious,  patri- 
otic and  as  strong  an  "Abolitionist"  as  Captain  Gardner  of 
my  company  was  a  "Pro-Slavery"  advocate.  Nevertheless 
the  two  captains  seemed  to  get  along  very  well  on  duty,  but 
outside  of  that  did  not  associate  much.  Captain  Gardner 

115 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

usually  had  his  tent  put  up  at  some  distance  from  Captain 
Lyon's,  who  kept  very  much  to  himself  and  seemed  to  pass 
his  time  in  reading  and  writing. 

Captain  Lyon  was  of  a  most  peculiar  temperament.  While 
he  preserved  a  fatherly  attitude  toward  his  company  and  saw 
to  their  comfort,  he  was  very  exacting.  The  least  infringe- 
ment of  rules,  which  other  officers  would  not  notice,  he  would 
punish.  He  seldom  put  any  of  his  men  in  the  guardhouse, 
except  for  some  serious  offense;  but  punished  them  by  mak- 
ing them  do  menial  duties  or  by  having  them  march  in  front 
of  the  company  quarters  where  he  could  observe  them,  carry- 
ing a  log  or  a  heavily  loaded  knapsack  or  with  a  barrel  over 
their  shoulders,  the  head  sticking  out  of  the  top.  He  had 
punishments  to  fit  every  grade  of  offense,  most  of  which  were 
of  his  own  invention.  However,  he  seldom  court-martialed 
any  of  his  men,  though  some  of  them  would  have  preferred 
that  to  the  humiliating  punishments  they  received.  When 
the  war  broke  out,  Captain  Lyon  was  in  command  of  the 
arsenal  at  St.  Louis,  Mo.,  which  he  saved  to  the  Government. 
He  broke  up  the  rebel  "Camp  Jackson"  under  General  Frost, 
defeated  the  troops  under  Governor  Jackson  at  Booneville 
and  fought  the  battle  of  Wilson's  Creek,  Mo.,  against  superior 
numbers  under  Generals  McCulloch  and  Price.  He  was  killed 
in  that  battle  on  August  tenth,  1861,  while  he  was  in  com- 
mand of  the  Union  troops  with  the  rank  of  brigadier-general. 
General  Lyon  did  much  to  save  the  State  of  Missouri  to  the 
Union  and  in  his  early  death,  the  Government  lost  a  loyal 
and  efficient  officer.  One  of  the  last  requests  that  General 
Lyon  made  just  before  his  death  was  that  "First  Sergt.  Griffin 
of  his  old  company  which  was  present  at  the  battle  should 
receive  a  commission  as  Lieutenant," — which  was  granted. 

As  soon  as  our  camp  was  permanently  established  at  the 
top  of  the  slope  leading  towards  the  river,  we  prepared  to 
erect  the  necessary  buildings.  Gangs  of  men  were  sent  into 
the  woods  to  cut  trees,  trim  them  and  haul  in  the  logs. 

Others  were  set  to  work  making  bricks  for  the  chimneys 

116 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

and  bake  ovens  out  of  some  suitable  clay  and  sand  that  had 
been  discovered  near  the  river  bank.  The  bricks  were  made 
in  moulds  and  burnt  in  the  usual  way.  They  answered  their 
purpose  very  well.  Every  man  not  required  for  guard  duty 
was  set  to  work  either  as  a  mechanic  or  a  laborer  at  "extra 
duty".  Carpenters,  framers,  masons  and  all  other  mechanics 
received  forty  cents  per  day  and  the  laborers  twenty-five 
cents  per  day,  extra  pay  for  ten  hours'  work.  The  mechanics 
remained  at  their  work,  but  the  laborers  took  turns  at  guard 
duties.  I  was  put  on  extra  duty  myself  for  a  while  as  a 
time-keeper  and  messenger  and  was  rated  and  paid  as  a 
laborer. 

Presently  the  raft  which  had  been  made  up  at  Fort  Pierre 
arrived  and  was  unloaded  and  taken  apart.  About  the  first 
of  July  a  steamboat  came  in  with  a  full  cargo  for  Fort  Look- 
out, consisting  of  military  stores  and  some  building  materials, 
such  as  doors,  sashes,  hardware,  shingles,  lime,  etc.  She  also 
landed  three  citizen  employes,  a  master-mechanic  to  take 
charge  of  construction  and  two  carpenters.  There  were  in 
addition  some  goods  for  the  sutler,  who  came  to  establish 
himself.  A  cow  and  some  hogs  were  put  ashore  consigned 
to  Captain  Lyon.  To  put  this  cargo  in  a  suitable  place  on 
shore  and  protect  it  from  the  elements  until  store  houses  could 
be  built,  occupied  some  time.  A  small  herd  of  beef  cattle 
also  arrived,  having  been  driven  up  from  the  settlements. 

One  of  the  first  things  the  master-mechanic  did  was  to 
erect  a  whip-saw  for  getting  out  flooring  and  roofing  boards. 
This  saw  was  worked  by  two  men,  one  above  and  the  other 
below  the  elevated  log.  It  was  slow,  laborious  work.  He 
next  made  a  plan  for  quarters  for  three  companies,  for 
another  company  was  to  join  us  later  in  the  season.  He 
directed  the  carpenters  and  framers  to  hew  the  logs  square 
and  cut  them  into  suitable  lengths  to  form  the  walls  of  the 
houses,  which  were  built  large  enough  to  hold  a  company 
apiece  comfortably.  They  had  the  luxury  of  doors,  windows 
and  brick  chimneys,  a  wooden  floor  and  a  shingled  roof,  but 

117 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

no  ceiling.  Log  houses  were  built  for  the  married  soldiers, 
for  company  kitchens,  a  hospital,  a  bakery,  the  adjutant's 
office,  the  guard  house  and  storehouses,  but  they  were  put 
up  to  be  warm  and  comfortable  and  had  brick  fire  places, 
doors  and  windows,  wood  floors  and  shingled  roofs,  the  same 
as  the  quarters.  For  the  officers  the  portable  houses  rafted 
down  from  Fort  Pierre  were  re-erected,  but  made  much 
stronger.  The  exterior  walls  were  double  with  a  filled  space 
between  them,  which  made  them  warmer.  Chimneys  and 
fireplaces  were  tfuilt.  We  built  no  company  mess-rooms,  leav- 
ing that  to  be  done  next  year  as  we  already  had  undertaken 
all  we  could  possibly  accomplish  before  cold  weather. 

Captain  Lyon  was  quite  busy  for  a  time  in  outlining  the 
post  and  locating  the  various  buildings.  He  seemed  very 
anxious  about  getting  the  post  lined  exact  and  true  to  the 
cardinal  points,  which  he  found  a  difficult  task  in  the  absence 
of  proper  instruments.  He  had  a  factotum  named  Charley 
Breen  who  was  his  valet,  cook,  hostler  and  assistant  surveyor. 
When  the  captain  went  out  on  several  nights  to  observe  the 
north  star  for  hours,  he  always  took  Charley  who  carried  a 
lantern.  Next  day  the  lines  were  changed  again.  We  had 
many  a  laugh  with  Charley  about  hunting  for  the  north  star 
with  a  lantern. 

Captain  Lyon  laid  out  Fort  Lookout  in  generous  dimensions. 
Perhaps  he  had  orders  to  do  so.  He  occupied  ground  enough 
for  about  two  regiments,  the  parade  ground  was  large  enough 
to  manoevure  a  brigade  of  troops.  The  plan  was  a  parallel- 
ogram in  shape  except  at  the  west  end  where  the  officers' 
houses  formed  a  semicircle.  The  east  end  near  the  river  was 
square  and  there  were  located  the  guard  house  and  store 
houses. 

On  the  long  sides  were  the  company  quarters,  two  on  the 
south  and  one  on  the  north  side.  They  looked  very  lonely 
in  that  vast  space.  It  was  much  more  than  a  quarter  mile 
from  the  guard  house  on  the  east  to  the  officers'  quarters  in 
the  west,  and  nearly  half  that  across  the  parade  ground  be- 

118 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

tween  the  company  quarters  from  north  to  south.  These 
great  distances  proved  to  be  very  inconvenient  in  winter, 
when  the  snow  was  deep  and  much  time  had  to  be  consumed 
in  relieving  the  widely  scattered  sentinels. 

Uninterrupted  progress  was  made  all  through  the  summer. 
We  had  no  trouble  with  the  Indians,  in  fact  none  came  near 
us  until  fall,  when  they  began  to  appear  and  dance  for  rations. 
The  only  soldiers  who  were  absent  from  the  fort  were  a  small 
escort  under  a  non-commissioned  officer  with  Lieutenant 
Warren  and  his  party  who  were  surveying  and  mapping  some 
of  the  Dakota  country.  They  approached  within  a  few  hun- 
dred miles  of  the  place  where  the  National  Yellowstone  Park 
is  now  located,  but  did  not  seem  to  have  ever  heard  of  that 
wonderful  region.  It  appeared  to  be  unknown  at  that  time. 
We  never  heard  hunters  or  trappers  speak  of  it,  and  if  the 
Indians  knew  of  it,  they  kept  their  knowledge  to  themselves. 

A  comet  was  visible  for  many  weeks  during  the  summer, 
larger  and  more  brilliant  and  with  a  longer  tail  than  any  I 
have  seen  since.  Unfortunately  we  had  no  opportunity  to 
learn  in  what  way  the  Indians  regarded  this  phenomenon. 

In  the  month  of  August,  Company  K  arrived  from  Fort 
Ripley  after  a  strenuous  march.  They  crossed  the  Missouri 
at  Fort  Pierre  in  Mackinaw  boats  and  from  there  came  down 
the  west  bank  to  Fort  Lookout.  This  company  was  much 
harassed  by  the  Chippawa  Indians,  while  marching  through 
their  country,  though  no  direct  attack  was  made.  One  soldier 
was  stabbed  to  death  by  an  Indian  at  a  spring  near  one  of 
their  camps,  where  he  had  gone  alone  to  fill  his  canteen. 
A  sad  accident  occurred  on  this  march.  One  sentinel  shot 
another  dead,  mistaking  him  for  an  Indian  because  of  his 
wearing  a  blanket  on  a  cool  night  while  on  post. 

Company  K  brought  two  Indian  guides  and  their  squaws 
with  them;  also  an  interpreter  and  his  squaw.  This  inter- 
preter proved  to  be  the  young  man  from  my  company  who 
had  deserted  from  Cantonment  Miller  about  sixteen  months 
before  to  join  the  Indians.  Why  he  took  the  risk  to  come 

119 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

back  in  our  direction  I  cannot  imagine,  unless  he  was  mis- 
informed at  Fort  Pierre  in  regard  to  the  whereabouts  of  his 
old  company.  He  was  much  changed,  but  was  recognized  in 
spite  of  his  Indian  make-up.  He  was  arrested  and  put  in 
the  guard  house,  which  at  this  time  was  a  tent  from  which  he 
escaped  easily  on  the  second  night,  and  we  never  heard  of 
him  again. 

Brevet  Major  George  W.  Patten,  whom  I  have  previously 
described,  was  in  command  of  Company  K.  He  wrote  an 
able  article  about  the  march  from  Fort  Ripley,  which  was 
published  in  Harper's  Magazine.  As  Major  Patten  ranked 
Captain  Lyon,  he  took  command  of  Fort  Lookout  on  his 
arrival,  but  Captain  Lyon  continued  to  superintend  the  build- 
ing of  the  post. 

During  the  summer  Capt.  Lyon  got  an  idea  that  some  other 
drink  besides  the  Missouri  river  water  would  be  good  for  the 
men,  and  he  started  in  to  make  what  he  intended  to  be  spruce 
beer.  He  put  us  boys  to  work  gathering  cactus  plants,  wild 
hops,  sprigs  of  spruce  and  a  few  other  plants  of  his  own 
selection.  Then  he  made  us  mash  the  cactus  to  a  pulp  and 
boil  the  entire  mixture  in  camp  kettles,  adding  water,  some 
molasses  and  vinegar.  We  then  strained  it  and  put  it  into 
barrels.  Under  the  Captain's  supervision  it  took  us  a  week 
to  make  three  or  four  barrels,  for,  according  to  his  habit,  he 
fussed  and  spent  as  much  of  his  time  over  it  as  he  would 
have  given  to  an  important  matter.  When  this  hodge-podge 
was  brewed  it  was  offered  to  the  soldiers.  One  drink  was 
enough  to  satisfy  most  of  them.  If  they  took  any  more  they 
were  likely  to  be  unfit  for  duty  next  day,  but  not  from  any 
intoxicating  qualities  of  the  mixture.  When  it  began  to  fer- 
ment it  threw  off  such  a  sickening  odor  and  tasted  so  vile 
that  no  one  would  drink  it.  Cactus  was  plentiful  in  the 
vicinity.  Some  of  it  bore  delicious  and  succulent  prickly- 
pears.  Wild  plums  and  grapes  were  also  plentiful. 

One  night  we  were  startled  by  the  sound  of  a  shot  that 
came  from  the  direction  of  Post  No.  3,  a  short  distance  from 

120 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

camp.    There  were  cries  of  "Corporal  of  the  guard,  Post  No. 
3 !"  and  for  a  few  moments  there  was  great  excitement. 

It  turned  out  that  the  sentinel  on  that  post  had  shot  off 
the  little  finger  of  his  left  hand.  He  explained  that  he  was 
carrying  his  rifle  across  the  back  of  his  neck,  with  the  left 
hand  over  the  muzzle  and  the  right  on  the  lock  "when  the 
durned  thing  went  off/' 

We  suspected  that  he  did  it  on  purpose,  hoping  to  get  his 
discharge  from  the  army  for  physical  disability.  If  so,  he 
was  not  liberal  enough  with  his  self  mutilation,  for  the  sacri- 
fice of  his  little  finger  did  not  procure  his  discharge. 

Near  the  end  of  summer  another  steamboat  on  the  way  to 
Fort  Pierre  stopped  and  unloaded  some  more  stores,  including 
a  quantity  of  potatoes,  onions  and  turnips  to  prevent  a  re- 
occurrence of  scurvy.  This  steamer  also  brought  a  second 
lieutenant  to  join  one  of  our  companies.  He  was  one  of  the 
appointees  from  civil  life — the  only  one  at  the  post.  He  hailed 
from  one  of  the  southern  states  and,  for  a  soldier,  was  the 
most  ungainly,  awkward  and  unmilitary  figure  that  I  ever 
saw.  He  was  a  young  man,  so  excessively  tall  that  he  stooped 
over  and  so  thin  that  he  barely  cast  a  shadow.  He  had  a 
glass  eye  that  had  a  roving  disposition.  It  gave  him  a  very 
droll  appearance.  He  was  quite  ignorant  of  military  matters 
and  at  his  first  appearance  on  parade  as  officer  of  the  day 
appeared  wearing  his  sash  over  the  wrong  shoulder.  Major 
Patten  appointed  him  Post  Adjutant  shortly  after  his  arrival, 
in  derision,  I  think. 

At  guard  mounting  he  had  to  be  coached  by  the  acting 
sergeant  major,  or  the  officer  of  the  day.  When  it  caine  to 
that  part  of  the  ceremony  where  the  adjutant  turns  "About 
face"  and  reports  to  the  officer  of  the  day  "Sir,  the  guard  is 
formed !"  he  nearly  fell  over  himself  with  his  sword  scabbard 
between  his  legs.  He  never  learned  to  make  an  "About  face" 
gracefully.  It  was  very  difficult  to  repress  our  laughter.  With 
all  this,  he  was  arrogant,  domineering  and  conceited,  and  was 
thoroughly  detested  by  his  company. 

121 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

When  on  duty  as  officer  of  the  day  he  visited  the  sentinels 
on  post,  demanded  their  orders  and  received  the  customary 
reply :  "To  take  charge  of  this  post  and  all  Government  prop- 
erty in  view,  to  salute  all  officers  according  to  rank,  to  allow 
no  one  to  pass  or  repass  at  night  without  the  countersign,  in 
case  of  fire  to  give  an  alarm,"  etc.,  etc. 

Then  he  would  torment  the  soldier  with  such  absurd  ques- 
tions as :  "What  would  you  do  if  you  saw  a  steamboat  coming 
down  over  the  hills,  or  a  thousand  Indians  mounted  on  buffa- 
loes charging  out  of  the  woods?" 

One  of  the  sentinels  answered  him,  "I  would  call  for  the 
corporal  of  the  guard  to  notify  you  immediately." 

Whoever  was  responsible  for  his  obtaining  a  commission 
in  the  Army  had  much  to  answer  for.  He  resigned  after  a 
few  years  and  disappeared  from  our  sight  and  knowledge. 

In  October  we  were  able  to  occupy  our  new  quarters  which 
appeared  palatial  to  us  in  comparison  with  the  wretched  hovels 
in  which  we  lived  the  previous  winter.  We  had  worked  hard 
to  accomplish  this.  About  this  time  a  singular  affliction  came 
upon  nearly  one-half  of  the  garrison,  which  we  called  moon- 
blindness.  Every  evening  after  twilight  they  began  to  lose 
their  vision,  and  when  it  became  dark  they  could  only  dis- 
tinguish a  bright  light  if  very  close  to  them.  They  had  to 
be  led  around  like  blind  men.  In  the  morning  they  could 
see  as  well  as  ever.  This  lasted  about  a  fortnight,  and  made 
it  hard  for  the  unafflicted  who  had  to  do  double  guard  duty. 
No  one  seemed  to  know  the  cause  of  this  blindness.  Some 
had  an  idea  that  the  comet  was  responsible  for  it.  I  was  one 
of  the  fortunate  who  escaped  this  affliction. 

Small  parties  of  Indians  began  to  visit  us;  and  about  a 
dozen  lodges  established  themselves  in  a  permanent  camp 
for  the  winter,  but  at  an  inconvenient  distance  from  the  fort. 
It  was  necessary  to  cross  a  deep  ravine  or  make  a  long  detour 
to  get  there. 

An  English  sportsman,  Sir  St.  George  Gore,  stopped  for  a 
day  to  visit  the  officers.  He  had  been  hunting  along  the 

122 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

upper  Missouri  and  Yellowstone  River  for  two  years  and  was 
now  on  his  way  home.  He  had  come  with  a  crew  on  a  large 
Mackinaw  boat,  loaded  with  furs  and  other  hunting  trophies. 

Immense  quantities  of  wild  ducks  and  geese  were  now 
flying  south.  We  managed  to  kill  quite  a  number  with  our 
military  rifles,  loaded  with  shot  which  we  made  ourselves  by 
pouring  a  ladle  full  of  melted  lead  from  an  elevated  position 
slowly  into  a  pail  of  water  placed  on  the  ground.  This  pro- 
duced shot  of  various  sizes  which  we  assorted,  using  the 
smaller  shot  for  blackbirds  which  were  abundant.  This  home- 
made shot  was  all  egg-shaped  instead  of  globular.  It  seemed 
to  be  effective  enough  when  fired  into  large  flocks. 

As  soon  as  steady  frost  appeared  all  of  our  beef  cattle  were 
killed  and  dressed.  Profiting  by  our  sad  experience  of  the 
last  winter  this  was  done  while  they  were  still  in  good  con- 
dition and  the  meat  placed  in  a  store  house  for  use  during  the 
winter.  Soon  there  was  a  deep  fall  of  snow  which  remained 
and  increased  throughout  the  winter.  A  space  was  kept 
cleared  of  snow  on  the  vast  parade  ground  with  paths  leading 
to  it  from  the  officers'  and  company  quarters,  for  the  purpose 
of  holding  the  daily  guard  mounting.  Spaces  were  cleared 
around  the  quarters  and  the  snow  piled  up  until  the  buildings 
were  half  hidden.  I  think  the  winter  was  fully  as  cold  as 
the  previous  one;  but  we  had  an  abundant  quantity  of  sea- 
soned firewood,  which  we  burnt  in  stoves  and  were  comfort- 
ably warm,  except  on  days  when  there  was  a  high  wind. 
When  the  thermometer  fell  to  twenty  degrees  below  zero, 
orders  were  issued  to  call  in  all  the  sentinels,  except  Post 
No.  1  in  front  of  the  guard  house,  and  No.  2,  at  the  store 
houses  close  by,  and  even  these  posts  were  relieved  every  half 
hour.  Our  food  was  more  abundant  and  much  better  than 
at  Cantonment  Miller  the  previous  winter.  There  was  no 
re-appearance  of  scurvy  and  we  had  plenty  of  warm  clothing. 

Captain  Lyon,  who  had  imported  some  hogs,  presented  them 
to  his  company  to  be  killed  as  a  Christmas  treat  of  fresh  pork. 
The  captain  sometimes  visited  the  pen  and  gave  directions 

123 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

for  their  care.  A  sow  had  a  litter  of  pigs  in  the  fall,  and 
fearing  that  she  might  kill  them,  he  directed  his  first  sergeant 
to  have  her  watched  for  a  few  days.  The  Sergeant  detailed 
some  men  for  this  purpose,  among  them  a  young  German,  who, 
considering  this  a  very  unmilitary  duty,  refused  to  serve, 
saying  "To  h mit  der  piggins,  I'm  no  swiney  doctor!" 

There  was  very  little  sickness  during  the  winter,  but  a 
number  of  cases  of  frost  bites,  none  of  them  very  serious. 
One  death  occurred  during  the  midwinter  in  our  little  hos- 
pital, that  of  Sergeant  Fiske  of  my  company  who  was  a  vet- 
eran of  the  Mexican  War,  and  had  suffered  for  a  long  time 
from  a  malady  to  which  soldiers  long  in  the  service  are  liable. 
Sergeant  Fiske  was  an  inveterate  card  player  and  smoker. 
On  the  evening  of  the  night  on  which  he  died  he  sat  cross 
legged  on  his  bed  and  played  his  favorite  game  with  some  of 
the  other  hospital  inmates.  When  he  was  placed  in  his  coffin, 
some  of  his  comrades  slipped  in  a  pack  of  cards  and  his  pipe 
to  be  buried  with  him,  Indian  fashion.  With  great  labor  a 
grave  was  dug  through  the  deeply  frozen  ground.  On  the 
top  of  a  hill  near  the  fort,  we  buried  Sergeant  Fiske  with 
military  honors,  Lieutenant  George  H.  Paige  reading  the 
burial  service.  A  board  was  put  up  to  mark  the  lonely  grave ; 
but  in  that  bleak  spot  it  probably  remained  only  a  short  time 
before  the  weather  obliterated  all  signs  of  it. 

During  this  winter  I  saw  but  little  of  the  Indians.  There 
were  only  a  small  number  in  camp  near  the  fort,  and  no 
others  arrived.  During  the  long  winter  evenings  we  played 
games  or  read  the  few  books,  magazines  and  occasional  news- 
papers that  we  could  procure.  A  mail  from  the  "States" 
arrived  but  twice  a  month,  and  life  at  the  post  was  monot- 
onous. 

At  Christmas  and  on  New  Years'  day  an  extra  dinner  was 
served  for  all  the  soldiers,  with  a  dessert  of  pie  made  with 
dried  apples  by  the  company's  baker.  Whiskey  punch  was 
also  provided.  There  was  no  chance  for  the  soldiers  to  pro- 
cure whiskey  at  Fort  Lookout  unless  one  of  the  officers  gave 

124 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

them  a  drink  of  it,  which  happened  rarely.  This  drove  some 
of  them  who  had  a  craving  for  it,  to  use  essence  of  Jamaica 
ginger  and  bay-rum  which  they  could  buy  at  the  sutler's  store. 
They  sometimes  made  a  punch  of  it  by  adding  sugar  and  hot 
water.  The  sutler  had  some  imported  ale  and  porter,  which 
he  was  allowed  to  sell  to  soldiers;  but  as  the  price  was 
seventy-five  cents  a  pint  bottle,  very  little  of  it  was  consumed. 

In  April,  when  the  snow  had  melted,  we  began  to  drill  again 
for  the  first  time  since  leaving  Carlisle  Barracks.  We  had 
lived  more  like  pioneers  than  soldiers.  Early  in  May  orders 
were  received  to  abandon  Fort  Lookout,  where  we  had  worked 
so  hard  to  build  quarters,  and  to  proceed  to  Fort  Randall, 
where  the  regimental  headquarters  and  four  companies  had 
gone  when  Fort  Pierre  was  abandoned  a  year  ago.  We  went 
into  camp  and  began  to  tear  down  the  company  quarters  for 
they  were  built  of  hewn  timber,  which  it  was  desirable  to  save. 
We  also  took  down  the  officers'  houses.  All  this  material  was 
hauled  down  to  the  river  bank  to  be  made  into  a  raft,  and 
floated  down  to  Fort  Randall.  We  left  all  of  the  log  cabins 
and  the  brick  chimneys  standing  but  removed  the  doors  and 
sashes.  Early  in  June  a  steamboat  which  had  discharged  her 
cargo  at  Fort  Randall  arrived  at  Fort  Lookout  and  took  on 
board  the  three  companies  and  all  of  the  commissary  and 
quartermaster  stores  and  other  moveable  property.  The 
wagons  and  mules  were  sent  overland  in  charge  of  an  officer 
and  escort. 

When  the  steamboat  started  down  the  river,  I  went  up  on 
the  hurricane  deck  to  have  a  final  look  at  what  remained  of 
Fort  Lookout.  I  saw  some  Indians  prowling  around  the 
abandoned  log  cabins.  Brick  chimneys  alone  marked  the 
places  where  our  quarters  and  the  officers'  houses  had  been. 
I  could  also  make  out  the  white  board  which  marked  the 
lonely  grave  of  Sergt.  Fiske  on  the  hill. 

We  were  soon  out  of  sight,  and  arrived  at  Fort  Randall  in 
a  few  days. 


125 


PART   VI. 

SERVICE  AT  FORT  RANDALL,  CAMPAIGNING  IN  KANSAS  AND 

EXPIRATION  OF  MY  ENLISTMENT. 

1857-1859. 

WE  arrived  at  Fort  Randall  in  June,  1857.  It  was 
located  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Missouri  river, 
about  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  miles  north  of 
the  Big  Sioux  river  as  the  crow  flies;  but  more  than  two 
hundred  miles  by  following  the  tortuous  water  course.  At 
Fort  Randall  an  unusually  sharp  turn  to  the  east,  and  another 
to  the  south,  gave  the  fort  a  river  front  on  two  sides,  east  and 
north,  with  the  protection  of  high  banks  sloping  to  a  wide 
strip  of  bottom  land  along  the  shore.  That  the  location  was 
desirable  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  it  has  been  used  as  a 
military  post  up  to  the  present  time,  and  is  now  in  the  midst 
of  a  large  reservation. 

The  four  companies  that  went  there  when  Fort  Pierre  was 
abandoned  a  year  before,  had  also  worked  hard  and  put  up 
substantial  log  houses,  rough,  but  comfortable,  around  a 
parade  ground  of  reasonable  size.  Our  three  companies  went 
into  camp  and  waited  for  the  arrival  of  the  raft  from  Fort 
Lookout,  which  came  in  about  a  week.  Then  the  re-erection 
of  our  quarters  and  officers'  houses  commenced.  The  cabins 
for  the  married  soldiers  were  all  placed  on  the  bottom  land 
called  "The  Hollow".  There  also  were  the  cabins  of  all  the 
citizen  commissary  and  quartermaster's  employees,  married 
and  single,  and  near  by  was  a  considerable  camp  of  Ponca 
Indians. 

There  were  about  a  dozen  of  citizen  mechanics  at  the  fort 
who  did  the  greater  part  of  the  work  in  re-erecting  the  quar- 

127 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

ters.  They  had  the  help  of  only  a  small  detail  of  soldiers. 
The  buildings  were  improved  by  ceilings,  and  a  mess-room 
was  built — something  we  had  not  had  for  two  years. 

A  large  post  garden  had  been  planted  early  in  the  spring 
by  the  companies  there,  and  during  the  summer  and  fall  we 
had  an  abundance  of  vegetables.  I  had  never  seen  potatoes, 
onions,  and  tomatoes,  attain  such  an  astonishing  size  as  they 
did  in  that  rich  virgin  soil.  A  few  soldiers  detailed  as  gar- 
deners lived  beside  the  garden  in  tents  about  a  mile  west  of 
the  fort. 

We  drilled  and  performed  guard  duty  and  moved  into  our 
new  quarters  after  the  middle  of  August.  I  did  not  have 
much  to  do  and  spent  a  great  part  of  my  spare  time  swim- 
ming, fishing  and  visiting  the  Indian  camp.  One  day,  I  swam 
acorss  the  Missouri  with  some  companions,  but  we  were  so 
exhausted  we  had  to  come  back  in  a  canoe. 

There  was  a  singular  hot  spring  or  pit  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  river.  It  could  not  be  closely  approached  because  of 
the  dangerous  quick-sand  about  it.  There  was  no  overflow, 
and  the  pit  seemed  to  be  bottomless.  We  threw  long  sticks 
into  it  from  a  distance.  They  went  down  but  never  came  up. 
The  spring  emitted  steam  in  winter,  but  it  was  overflowed  by 
the  river  in  the  spring  and  disappeared. 

Major  Hannibal  Day  was  in  command  at  Fort  Randall. 
There  was  a  band  and  we  did  regular  garrison  duty,  including 
Sunday  dress  parades  and  skirmish  drills.  Once  in  a  while, 
an  escort  was  furnished  to  accompany  some  wagons  to  Sioux 
City  and  back — a  place  which  was  then  beginning  to  build 
up — or  a  company  occasionally  made  a  short  march  to  settle 
a  small  Indian  difficulty.  Our  duties  were  varied  and  the 
summer  passed  quickly. 

The  sutler  had  built  a  roomy  store  at  Fort  Randall,  with 
lumber  brought  from  St.  Louis.  It  was  stocked  with  goods  for 
both  soldiers  and  Indians,  and  the  prices  were  lower  than  at 
Fort  Pierre.  He  kept  ale  on  draught  which,  with  some  re- 
strictions, he  was  allowed  to  sell  to  the  soldiers  by  the  glass. 

128 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Whiskey  began  to  be  smuggled  from  Sioux  City  and  was  sold 
to  the  soldiers.  This  made  more  cases  for  the  guard-house. 

An  enterprising  soldier's  wife  fixed  up  a  small  still  in  her 
quarters  at  the  "Hollow"  and  made  a  little  corn  whiskey  which 
she  sold  to  soldiers  secretly,  but  she  was  informed  on  after 
a  while  and  her  distilling  plant  was  destroyed.  As  a  punish- 
ment, she  was  deprived  of  her  ration  allowance.  Every  com- 
pany had  some  men  who  were  slaves  to  the  liquor  habit. 
There  was  one  in  my  company  who,  whenever  he  saw  an 
intoxicated  man,  could  not  refrain  from  exclaiming,  "I  wish 
I  had  half  of  your  sickness!" 

A  second  lieutenant,  a  man  of  middle  age,  joined  my  regi- 
ment. He  was  appointed  from  civil  life,  but  there  was  a 
rumor  that  he  had  served  as  an  officer  in  the  navy.  If  so, 
the  navy  was  to  be  congratulated  on  its  loss,  for  we  soon 
discovered  that  he  was  one  of  those  steady  drinkers  who,  with- 
out being  intoxicated,  are  almost  constantly  under  the  influ- 
ence of  liquor  in  a  minor  degree.  He  was  saturated  with  it 
and  exhaled  it.  Whenever  any  severe  duty  was  to  be  per- 
formed he  managed  to  get  excused  on  the  plea  of  sickness, 
and  was  away  on  leave  as  often  as  he  could  get  it.  Unfor- 
tunately, he  remained  with  my  regiment  until  after  the  begin- 
ning of  the  Civil  War.  By  that  time  he  was  unfit  for  field 
duty.  He  was  on  the  sick  list  most  of  the  time,  and  never 
was  present  at  any  battle.  We  got  rid  of  him  in  1862,  when 
he  was  retired  as  a  captain. 

All  of  the  officers'  families,  from  whom  they  had  been 
separated  for  two  years,  joined  them  at  Fort  Randall.  It  was 
quite  a  novelty  to  see  white  ladies  again  and  to  see  their 
children  playing  on  the  parade  ground. 

Captain  Gardner  was  married  here  to  the  sister  of  a  lieu- 
tenant of  another  company.  He  went  home  to  Georgia  on 
leave,  and  when  he  returned  brought  back  with  him  a  negro 
and  his  wife,  both  of  whom  were  slaves.  The  woman  cooked 
and  the  man  did  chores. 

A  partial  alteration  was  made  at  this  time  in  the  army  uni- 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

form.  The  tight  fitting  jacket  was  replaced  by  a  loose  fitting 
blouse  of  dark  blue  cloth,  which  was  an  agreeable  change. 
The  light  blue  trousers  were  replaced  by  trousers  of  dark 
blue  cloth,  but  in  less  than  two  years  were  changed  back  to 
the  light  blue,  which  the  army  has  adhered  to  ever  since. 
There  was  an  absurd  change  from  the  old  uniform  hat  to  a. 
strange  and  unmilitary  design.  The  new  creation  was  made 
of  stiff  black  felt  with  a  broad  brim  and  a  high  crown.  The 
brim  was  looped  up  on  the  right  side  and  fastened  with  a  brass 
eagle,  otherwise  it  would  have  interfered  when  the  soldier 
had  his  gun  at  "shoulder-arms."  On  the  front  was  a  brass 
bugle  with  the  regimental  number  in  the  centre  of  it,  and  a 
brass  letter  of  the  company  above  it.  Around  the  hat  was 
a  worsted  cord  with  tassels  of  light  blue  for  the  infantry. 
A  single  black  feather  or  plume  was  fastened  on  the  left  side 
of  the  hat,  which  few  of  the  soldiers  knew  how,  or  cared  to 
keep  curled  neatly.  In  damp  weather  it  looked  like  a  drenched 
rooster's  tail-feathers.  The  officers  had  similar  hats  of  finer 
material  with  more  generous  plumes. 

A  substantial  new  guard-house  of  hewn  logs  with  a  large 
room  for  prisoners  and  a  few  dark  cells  had  been  built  during 
the  summer.  It  was  at  the  head  of  the  road  leading  down 
to  the  river,  and  chance  made  me  the  first  inmate  of  one 
of  the  cells.  Some  soldiers  who  had  deserted  were  recaptured 
and  tried  by  a  general  court-martial,  which  sentenced  them 
to  receive  thirty-nine  lashes  on  their  bare  backs,  laid  on  with 
a  rawhide.  They  were  also  to  be  confined  at  hard  labor  for 
four  months,  lose  all  pay  and  allowances  and  be  dishonorably 
discharged.  On  the  autumn  day  on  which  the  first  part  of 
the  sentence  was  executed  we  were  paraded,  and  formed  three 
sides  of  a  square,  the  guard-house  and  prison  forming  the 
fourth  side.  It  was  the  first  time  that  I  had  ever  seen  cor- 
poral punishment  with  a  rawhide  inflicted  on  a  man  while  in 
the  army,  and  was  also  the  only  time,  as  flogging  for  deser- 
tion was  abolished  forever  by  Act  of  Congress  a  few  years 
later.  The  three  prisoners  were  present  under  guard. 

130 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

The  officer  of  the  day  read  the  sentence,  and  called  out  the 
name  of  one  of  the  deserters,  who  was  led  to  the  centre  of 
the  square,  where  a  triangle  formed  of  strong  joists  had  been 
set  up.  Here  he  was  divested  of  his  jacket  and  shirt,  his 
wrists  were  bound  with  cords.  His  arms  were  pulled  up  over 
his  head  and  tied  to  the  top,  while  his  feet  were  spread  apart 
and  secured  to  the  bottom  of  the  triangle.  It  had  always 
been  the  custom  in  the  army  for  flogging  to  be  administered 
by  one  of  the  musicians.  Why  they  were  selected  to  do  it,  I 
never  learned.  When  all  was  ready  the  officer  of  the  day 
called  one  of  the  older  boys  from  the  ranks.  He  was  handed  a 
rawhide  and  told  by  the  officer  to  strike  the  prisoner  hard 
from  the  shoulders  to  the  loins. 

At  first  the  blows  were  moderate,  but  increased  under  the 
officer's  threats  until  each  blow  left  a  dark  red  mark  and  then 
began  to  cut  the  skin  until  blood  flowed.  The  poor  wretch 
squirmed  and  groaned  piteously,  the  more  so  when  some  ill 
directed  blow  struck  him  around  the  side.  When  the  thirty- 
ninth  blow  had  been  struck,  the  officer  who  had  kept  count 
cried,  "Halt".  The  victim  was  untied  by  the  guards  and, 
unable  to  stand  on  his  feet,  was  dragged  towards  the  guard- 
house. 

The  second  prisoner  was  then  led  forward  and  prepared 
to  receive  his  punishment.  The  officer  of  the  day  turned 
about  to  select  another  musician  to  strike  the  blows.  His 
glance  rested  on  me  for  an  instant  but  he  passed  me  by  and 
called  out  another  by  name,  for  which  I  felt  very  thankful. 
The  brutal  scene  was  repeated  in  all  of  its  revolting  details. 

When  the  last  prisoner  was  ready  the  officer  of  the  day 
called  out  my  name;  but  I  stood  still  and  shook  my  head. 
He  then  peremptorily  called  me  a  second  time,  to  which  I 
replied,  "I  refuse/'  He  ordered  me  to  be  placed  in  charge 
of  the  guard,  and  called  on  my  drummer  to  execute  the  sen- 
tence which  my  refusal  to  act  had  delayed  for  a  few  minutes. 

Charges  of  disobedience  of  orders  were  preferred  against 
me,  and  in  about  a  week  I  was  tried  by  court-martial.  I  could 

131 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

only  plead  guilty,  and  in  another  week  my  sentence  was  pro- 
mulgated. I  was  to  be  confined  in  the  guard-house  for  thirty 
days,  ten  of  them  in  solitary  confinement  on  a  diet  of  bread 
and  water,  the  remainder  at  hard  labor,  and  to  forfeit  one 
month's  pay.  My  captain  tried  to  have  my  sentence  com- 
muted, but  it  was  so  glaring  a  refusal  to  obey  orders  without 
any  extenuating  circumstances  that  he  was  unsuccessful. 

I  commenced  to  serve  the  first  part  of  my  ten  days  at  hard 
labor  by  going  out  with  the  prison  gang  under  guard  at  seven 
o'clock  each  mornign,  chopping  wood  at  the  officers'  quarters 
or  sweeping  the  roads  and  keeping  the  parade  ground  clear 
until  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  with  an  interval  of  an  hour 
for  dinner.  All  of  the  prisoners  "soldiered",  and  shirked 
their  work  as  much  as  they  could.  None  of  us  worked  hard. 

My  second  term  of  ten  days  was  to  be  in  one  of  the  new 
cells  on  bread  and  water.  But  all  of  the  sergeants  in  charge 
of  the  guard  were  friendly  to  me,  and  let  me  out  of  my  cell 
into  the  guard  room  for  hours  at  a  time  after  dark.  Some 
took  the  risk  of  letting  me  out  in  the  day  time  after  the  officer 
of  the  day  had  made  his  customary  rounds.  As  for  bread 
and  water,  I  never  had  any  of  that.  Everyone  seemed  anxious 
to  smuggle  in  something  nice  for  me  to  eat,  and  I  had  to  give 
away  much  of  it  to  other  prisoners.  There  was  more  than 
one  boy  could  consume.  Hot  coffee  was  also  supplied  to  me 
when  it  was  brought  in  with  the  meals  for  the  other  pris- 
oners. Friends  furnished  me  with  plenty  of  candles  and 
books. 

When  my  ten  days  of  solitary  confinement  expired,  I  com- 
menced the  last  term  of  ten  days  at  hard  labor  the  same  as 
before.  During  those  terms  I  had  to  sleep  on  the  floor  in  the 
large  prison  room  with  the  other  prisoners.  I  would  have 
preferred  to  sleep  in  the  cell  alone. 

But  there  was  enough  that  was  amusing  going  on  at  the 
post  to  make  the  memory  of  my  punishment  soon  lose  its 
sting.  For  example,  there  was  one  man  in  my  company,  an 
old  soldier  of  the  Mexican  War,  who  would  sometimes  take 

132 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

a  drink  too  much.  This  always  made  him  maudlin  and  melan- 
choly. At  such  times  he  always  spoke  of  the  "beautiful 
senoritas,"  as  he  called  them.  Tears  would  come  into  his 
eyes  when  he  told  us  the  charmers  called  him  "Senor  Patrucio 
Martino".  Then  he  would  say  with  a  sob,  "Look  at  me !  What 
am  I  now  ?  Nothing  but  plain  Paddy  Martin,"  and  burst  into 
a  flood  of  tears. 

The  winter  was  much  milder  than  the  two  preceding  ones. 
There  were  some  bitterly  cold  days  during  January  and  Feb- 
ruary, yet  we  were  quite  comfortable.  We  had  plenty  to  eat 
and  a  variety.  The  general  health  of  all  the  soldiers  was  ex- 
ceedingly good.  We  got  up  amusements  to  pass  the  time. 
There  were  some  negro  employees  in  the  Quartermaster's 
Department  who  could  sing  plantation  songs  for  us.  One  of 
them,  a  coal  black  negro  who  had  been  on  the  frontiers  for 
a  number  of  years  with  the  Fur  Company,  was  married  to 
a  squaw  and  had  several  children  who  were  curious  speci- 
mens of  the  human  race,  combining  the  most  prominent  fea- 
tures of  the  Indian  and  the  negro.  Both  the  father  and  the 
mother  seemed  very  proud  of  them,  however. 

The  Indian  camp,  of  easy  access  to  the  garrison,  always 
proved  interesting.  Its  population  was  sometimes  increased 
by  visitors  from  the  large  Ponca  Village,  and  from  a  Yankton 
village  not  far  away.  I  spent  much  of  my  time  with  the 
Indians,  as  I  had  done  two  winters  previous  at  Cantonment 
Miller. 

In  April,  after  the  breaking  up  of  the  ice  on  the  Missouri 
and  the  melting  of  the  snow,  flocks  of  wild  ducks  and  geese 
made  their  appearance.  For  a  time  they  came  in  incredible 
numbers  and  we  managed  to  get  all  we  wanted  of  them. 

A  man  of  my  company  named  Jack  Lynch,  who  had  a 
habit  of  prowling  about  the  country  alone,  showed  us  a 
spoonful  of  gold  dust  that  he  said  he  had  found  during  hi? 
wanderings,  but  did  not  tell  us  where.  About  this  time  there 
were  articles  in  the  papers  about  the  discovery  of  gold  in  the 
Black  Hills,  some  hundreds  of  miles  to  the  west  of  us;  and 

133 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

we  saw  no  good  reason  why  gold  should  not  exist  in  the 
bleak  hills  about  Fort  Randall.  Our  man  brought  in  more 
samples  of  gold.  He  was  watched  and  was  discovered  wash- 
ing gold  in  a  ravine,  through  which  a  small  water  course  ran 
down  from  the  hills  a  mile  or  more  south  of  the  fort. 

Then  excitement  ran  high.  Crowds  of  soldiers  went  pros- 
pecting and  washing  gold.  Places  were  discovered  where  it 
was  more  plentiful.  In  fact,  too  plentiful,  for  some  of  the 
more  industrious  quickly  accumulated  a  considerable  quan- 
tity of  it.  I  had  about  a  pint  of  it  myself.  Games  of  poker 
were  played  in  the  quarters  evenings,  at  which  the  stakes 
were  gold  dust  measured  out  in  thimblefuls.  Others  hoarded 
their  wealth  and  guarded  it  jealously.  Hope  of  riches  within 
our  grasp  warmed  our  hearts  and  cheered  us. 

The  excitement  had  reached  a  high  pitch,  when,  about  a 
week  after  our  "gold  digging"  started,  some  one  thought  of 
submitting  a  sample  of  the  gold  dust  to  the  hospital  steward, 
who  had  the  necessary  acids  for  a  test.  He  promptly  declared 
the  stuff  to  be  pyrites  or  "fools'  gold".  Some  of  the  men 
were  bitterly  disappointed,  others  laughed.  The  discoverer 
and  a  few  more,  however,  clung  to  their  "gold  dust".  They 
believed  that  it  was  valuable  until  they  got  a  report  from 
St.  Louis — where  they  had  sent  a  sample  to  be  assayed — which 
confirmed  the  hospital  steward's  opinion.  After  a  while  some 
of  the  soldiers  began  to  think  that  Jack  Lynch  might  have  been 
playing  a  huge  joke  on  us.  He  was  a  pecuilar  man  in  many 
ways,  and  was  the  possessor  of  a  pair  of  eyes  that  did  not 
match,  one  of  them  being  light  blue  and  the  other  dark  gray. 

During  the  early  spring  of  1858,  we  read  much  in  the  news- 
papers about  the  Mountain  Meadow  massacre  in  Utah  in 
1857,  by  Indians  instigated  by  the  Mormons.  A  large  party 
of  emigrants  had  been  annihilated,  except  a  few  small  chil- 
dren, and  Col.  Albert  Sidney  Johnson  was  gathering  troops 
at  Fort  Bridger,  Utah,  to  punish  the  Mormons.  We  also 
read  about  trouble  on  the  border  line  between  Missouri  and 
Kansas  Territory.  Kansas  desired  to  become  a  "free  state," 

134 


TEN   YEARS   IN  THE   RANKS   U.S.  ARMY 

while  the  Missourians,  together  with  some  adherents  in  the 
territory,  wanted  it  to  become  a  "slave  state."  This  led  to 
many  atrocities  on  the  border  line,  where  people  were  being 
driven  off  their  farms  and  murdered  by  a  gang  called  the 
"Border  Ruffians." 

Soon  a  rumor  spread  that  some  of  the  companies  at  Fort 
Randall  would  be  withdrawn  to  serve  either  in  Kansas  or 
Utah,  and  presently  an  order  arrived  to  send  two  companies 
to  report  at  Fort  Leavenworth,  as  soon  as  transportation  by 
steamboat  could  be  had.  For  this  service  my  own  company 
and  Captain  Lyon's  Company  B  were  selected.  We  were 
ordered  to  prepare  ourselves  in  light  marching  order,  leaving 
behind  us  all  of  our  full  dress  uniforms,  and  other  articles 
not  required  on  a  campaign.  We  also  left  behind  us  the 
alcoholic  second  lieutenant,  who  managed  to  be  excused  from 
going  and  remained  at  Fort  Randall  on  duty  with  some  other 
company.  The  officers'  and  soldiers'  wives  and  children  also 
remained.  Captain  Gardner  and  Lieutenant  O'Connoll  of  my 
company  and  Captain  Lyon  and  a  lieutenant  of  Company  B 
were  the  only  officers  to  go. 

We  waited  impatiently  for  a  steamboat  to  arrive.  She  did 
not  appear  until  near  the  middle  of  May,  and  with  her  came 
a  paymaster  who  gave  us  eight  months'  pay  before  our  de- 
parture. When  the  boat  was  unloaded  and  all  was  ready,  we 
formed  on  the  parade  ground  and,  escorted  by  the  band, 
marched  to  the  boat.  Among  those  who  watched  our  de- 
parture were  a  number  of  Indians  and  squaws  from  the  camp. 

The  river  was  still  high  and  the  current  swift.  The  boat 
was  but  lightly  loaded,  so  we  did  not  strand  on  any  sand 
bars  and  made  good  progress,  running  at  night  on  the  latter 
half  of  our  trip.  We  still  had  to  tie  up  now  and  then  and 
cut  wood  to  feed  the  boilers,  but  occasionally  there  was  a  pile 
of  cord-wood  for  sale. 

The  great  changes  that  had  taken  place  since  we  had 
ascended  the  river  three  years  before,  were  surprising  to  me. 
Then  St.  Joseph,  Mo.,  marked  the  limit  of  the  white  settle- 

135 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

ments.  Less  than  a  hundred  miles  from  Fort  Randall  by 
river,  we  made  the  first  landing  at  Niabrana,  where  the  river 
of  the  same  name,  flows  into  the  Missouri.  There  was  a 
small  cluster  of  houses,  and  a  somewhat  pretentious  hotel,  a 
three-story  frame  building  which  some  enterprising  citizen 
had  erected.  Next  we  stopped  at  Sioux  City,  which  had 
become  a  considerable  village  near  the  river  bank  of  one 
and  two  story  frame  buildings,  with  a  general  store  and  a 
small  church.  Then  came  Council  Bluffs,  Omaha;  Nebraska 
City;  Atchison  and  some  smaller  places.  All  of  them  had 
sprung  up  within  three  years,  and  were  busy  and  rapidly 
growing.  We  stopped  at  all  these  palces  to  take  on  pas- 
sengers or  a  little  freight. 

Such  comfort  as  the  staterooms  afforded  was  not  for  the 
soldiers.  They  were  set  apart  for  the  use  of  the  passengers 
and  our  officers,  while  we  were  very  uncomfortably  limited 
to  the  lower  or  boiler  deck.  We  had  to  sleep  anywhere  we 
could  find  room  to  lie  down,  on  piles  of  freight  or  on  the 
bare  deck.  The  weather  was  raw  at  first,  and  we  had  cold 
rains.  With  half  a  dozen  others  I  slept  under  the  boilers 
several  times  after  the  fires  were  banked  and  the  boat  laid  up 
for  the  night.  The  rear  of  the  boilers  was  elevated  on  iron 
supports  three  feet  or  more  above  the  deck.  It  formed  a 
warm  and  sheltered  place  when  the  cold  wind  blew  fore  and 
aft  through  the  open  deck  from  stem  to  stern.  After  the  boat 
began  to  run  at  night,  the  place  became  too  hot  for  us  and 
we  had  to  sleep  elsewhere. 

There  were  no  docks  or  wharves  at  any  of  the  landings. 
When  the  boat  approached  a  town  she  sounded  her  whistle 
and  rang  a  bell,  which  brought  many  of  the  inhabitants  to  the 
river  bank.  In  making  a  landing  while  going  down  stream, 
the  pilot  slowed  down,  approached  the  shore  at  an  acute 
angle  and  pressed  "her  nozzle  ag'in  the  bank."  There  he  held 
the  boat,  until  the  force  of  the  current  swung  her  around  and 
the  bow  pointed  up  stream.  The  impact  of  the  boat  always 
dislodged  a  large  quantity  of  soft  earth  from  the  river  bank, 

136 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

which  fell  into  the  water  and  left  a  big  dent  in  the  shore 
line.  Every  steamboat  on  its  way  down  stream  deprived  the 
town  of  some  of  its  real  estate,  if  it  made  a  landing. 

In  ten  or  twelve  days,  we  reached  Fort  Leavenworth  and 
went  into  quarters.  I  found  the  place  very  much  improved. 
It  had  been  cleaned  up,  the  old  buildings  had  been  renovated 
and  some  new  ones  added.  There  was  no  cholera  or  other 
infectious  sickness  there  then.  It  was  a  very  busy  place 
at  that  time.  Soldiers  were  arriving  and  departing  frequently, 
on  their  long  march  via  Forts  Kearney  and  Laramie  to  Fort 
Bridger,  near  Salt  Lake  City,  where  Col.  Johnson  was  assem- 
bling a  little  army  to  punish  the  Mormons.  At  Leavenworth 
post  I  saw  Robert  E.  Lee,  who  was  then  the  colonel  of  one 
of  the  cavalry  regiments  and  soon  to  become  the  Commander- 
in-Chief  of  the  Confederate  Army. 

A  few  days  after  our  arrival  at  the  fort  some  comrades 
and  myself  obtained  a  twenty- four  hour  pass  to  go  to  Leaven- 
worth City,  only  a  few  miles  down  the  river.  It  had  grown 
to  a  thriving  town  with  many  stores,  hotels  and  saloons,  on 
the  business  streets ;  churches,  dwellings  and  shacks  on  others. 
All  were  built  of  wood  and  very  few  were  more  than  two 
stories  high. 

We  were  in  luck — a  circus  had  come  to  town  and  was 
parading  through  the  streets  when  we  arrived.  There  was  a 
steam  organ  on  a  decorated  truck  followed  by  a  band  and  the 
mounted  circus  performers  which  drew  a  great  crowd.  Of 
course,  we  were  on  hand  at  the  afternoon  performance  in  the 
tent  and  thought  it  was  great.  In  the  evening  we  went  to 
a  theater  in  a  barn-like  building  in  the  heart  of  the  town, 
where  we  sat  on  wooden  benches  which  were  all  on  a  level. 
There  was  no  gallery.  Three  or  four  disreputable  looking 
musicians,  playing  on  wheezy  instruments,  made  up  the  or* 
chestra.  The  stage  and  the  auditorium  were  lighted  with 
candles.  The  floor  of  the  stage  creaked  when  the  perform- 
ers walked  over  it,  and  the  scenery  threatened  to  topple  over. 
I  distinctly  remember  that  the  piece  played  by  the  ambitious 

137 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

actors  was  "The  Lady  of  Lyons,"  which  they  probably  mur- 
dered. However,  the  audience  that  crowded  the  place  ap- 
plauded and  seemed  to  enjoy  it,  and  so  did  we.  We  slept  at  a 
hotel  that  night  on  a  real  bed  for  the  first  time  in  years,  and 
next  morning  walked  back  to  the  fort. 

A  few  days  later  we  received  orders  to  start  for  Utah. 
Each  man  bought  a  gray  felt  hat  at  the  sutler's  store,  as  we 
had  seen  other  detachments  do.  These  we  wore  on  the  march 
instead  of  the  fatigue  cap,  which  was  a  poor  protection  against 
the  fierce  rays  of  the  sun  on  the  prairies.  Our  first  objective 
point  was  Fort  Kearney  on  the  Platte  River,  about  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  miles  away.  But  we  had  marched  only  about 
a  week  when  we  were  recalled  and  retraced  our  steps  to  Fort 
Leavenworth.  I  felt  disappointed,  I  had  hoped  to  see  the 
Grat  Salt  Lake  and  the  Mormons.  The  long  weary  march 
did  not  intimidate  me.  On  our  return  to  the  fort,  we  learned 
that  fresh  trouble  had  broken  out  on  the  Kansas  border,  and 
we  were  to  go  to  Fort  Scott  in  the  south-eastern  part  of 
Kansas,  a  few  miles  from  the  Missouri  border,  to  protect  the 
settlers.  In  a  few  days  our  little  command  was  ready  to  start. 
It  included  Companies  B  and  D  and  a  section  of  a  battery 
of  artillery  consisting  of  two  of  the  old  style  brass  six 
pounders  with  their  caissons,  and  necessary  complement  of 
artillerists  commanded  by  First  Lieutenant  Beekman  Du  Barry, 
Third  Artillery,  who  attained  high  rank  later  in  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac.  Second  Lieutenant  J.  B.  Shinn  was  his  assistant. 
The  surgeon  who  accompanied  us  was  Samuel  W.  Crawford, 
who  later  commanded  the  division  of  Pennsylvania  Reserves 
at  the  battle  of  Gettysburg  as  a  brigadier  general.  Captain 
Nathaniel  Lyon,  being  the  ranking  officer,  commanded  the 
detachment.  Captain  Lyon,  the  firm  abolitionist,  and  Captain 
Gardner,  the  ardent  pro-slavery  advocate,  were  there  together, 
on  a  mission  to  keep  the  peace  between  rival  factions,  the  free- 
soilers  and  the  partisans  of  slavery.  Whatever  their  feelings 
may  have  been,  but  they  did  not  exhibit  them.  They  were  polite 
to  each  other  but  not  cordial. 

138 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Our  first  day's  march  ended  at  a  creek  which  was  almost 
dry  when  we  crossed  it.  That  night  there  was  a  cloud-burst 
which  drenched  us,  and  next  morning  the  dry  creek  had 
become  a  raging  torrent  many  yards  wide.  We  witnessed  the 
drowning  of  a  man  and  a  horse,  who  attempted  to  swim 
over  to  our  side,  and  to  whom  we  could  give  no  aid. 

A  few  nights  later  we  were  encamped  on  low  bottom  land 
at  the  Kansas  River,  when  after  midnight  a  terrific  rain  storm 
flooded  our  camp  with  several  inches  of  water.  I  sat  until 
daylight  in  my  tent  on  an  inverted  quart  tin  cup.  My  bare 
feet  were  in  the  water  and  I  held  my  knapsack  and  clothing 
on  my  knees  to  keep  them  dry. 

We  crossed  the  Kansas  river  on  a  private  ferry,  which  con- 
sisted of  a  flat-boat  or  scow  large  enough  to  carry  a  wagon 
with  a  team  of  horses.  A  cable  was  stretched  across  the  stream 
high  above  the  water.  An  ingenious  arrangement  of  pulleys 
was  attached  to  this  cable  and  to  the  boat,  so  that  it  was 
guided  from  shore  to  shore  while  the  current  furnished  the 
motive  power.  No  steering  was  required  and  no  labor,  except 
to  shove  the  boat  off  to  take  the  current.  It  was  easy  work, 
but  very  slow.  It  took  all  day  to  pass  the  soldiers  and  wagons 
over  the  river.  The  artillery  crossed  on  the  following  day. 

We  encamped  one  day  near  a  small  village  called  Shawnee- 
town.  In  the  evening  many  of  the  soldiers  strolled  to  the 
village,  where  there  was  a  hotel  with  a  bar-room,  in  which 
a  few  citizens  were  drinking  with  some  of  the  soldiers.  It 
was  becoming  dark,  and  the  saddled  horses  belonging  to  the 
citizens  were  hitched  to  posts  on  the  street.  This  gave  a  joker 
of  my  company  an  opportunity  to  play  a  trick  on  one  of  the 
civilians.  He  pulled  a  hair  out  of  a  horse's  tail,  and  tied  it 
firmly  around  the  animal's  hind  leg  between  the  hoof  and  the 
fetlock,  concealing  the  hair  by  carefully  covering  it  with  the 
hair  on  the  horse's  leg.  Then  he  awaited  developments. 

After  a  while  the  civilians  came  out,  mounted  their  horses, 
and  started  off.  We  leisurely  followed  them,  as  their  road 
led  in  the  direction  of  our  camp.  Soon  one  of  the  men  noticed 

139 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

that  his  horse  was  going  lame.  It  raised  one  of  his  hind  feet 
higher  than  the  others,  and  brought  it  down  with  a  jerk,  as 
though  it  were  trying  to  kick  off  something  which  annoyed  it. 
The  rider  dismounted  and  examined  the  horse's  hoof  but  found 
nothing  wrong.  Then  his  two  companions  dismounted  and 
examined  it.  As  we  passed  we  heard  them  say  that  the  only 
thing  to  be  done  was  to  go  back  to  the  village  and  have  the 
shoe  taken  off.  This  they  did  and  I  hope  discovered  the  harm- 
less trick  that  had  been  played  on  them. 

After  leaving  Shawneetown,  we  directed  our  march  close 
to  the  border  line.  Sometimes  we  were  in  Missouri,  some- 
times in  Kansas.  This  continued  all  the  way  down  to  Fort 
Scott.  We  halted  for  a  day's  rest  at  a  small  village  called 
West  Point  in  Missouri,  where  we  could  overlook  a  valley 
and  see  some  Indian  mounds.  By  this  time  we  had  been 
joined  by  half  a  dozen  dogs,  who  had  left  their  owners  and 
followed  us.  They  seemed  to  love  the  soldiers,  who  petted 
and  fed  them.  We  had  quite  a  pack  before  the  summer  was 
over.  Our  marches  were  easy.  There  was  no  hurry ;  it  was 
desired  to  let  the  people  know  that  there  were  troops  for 
their  protection  near  the  border  line. 

The  country  was  sparsely  settled.  When  we  had  reached 
the  border  we  began  to  see  abandoned  farms,  and  burned  farm 
houses  and  cabins.  Those  of  the  settlers  who  remained  were 
outspoken  sympathizers  with  slavery.  On  some  of  the  aban- 
doned farms  the  gardens  and  fields  had  been  planted  in  the 
spring  and  were  now  overgrown  with  weeds.  The  horses  and 
cattle  had  been  taken  away  too,  but  there  were  pigs  in  the 
woods  and  chickens  and  ducks  running  loose  without  any 
owners.  Every  day  was  a  feast  with  us  on  that  short  march. 
We  lived  on  fresh  pork,  chickens  and  all  kinds  of  vegetables, 
disdaining  of  the  government  rations,  except  the  hard  bread. 

We  reached  Fort  Scott  in  the  evening  during  a  heavy  thun- 
der storm,  soaked  to  the  skin.  We  put  up  for  the  night  in 
one  of  the  old  barrack  buildings,  and  next  morning  established 
a  camp  just  outside  of  the  little  town.  Fort  Scott  was  an 

140 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

old  frontier  post,  built  on  the  same  plan  as  all  the  others, 
which  had  been  abandoned  and  sold  by  the  Government.  Citi- 
zens now  lived  in  the  frame  buildings,  formerly  occupied  by 
officers  and  soldiers.  One  of  the  old  barrack  buildings  had 
been  converted  into  a  hotel,  and  the  parade  ground,  with  its 
well  in  the  centre,  was  now  the  pubilc  square.  On  it  faced 
the  court  house,  in  one  of  the  old  buildings,  with  the  old 
guard-house  serving  for  the  prison. 

The  town  of  Fort  Scott  on  the  Marmiton  river  was  the 
county  seat  of  Bourbon  County,  Kansas.  Some  scattering 
houses  had  been  erected  outside  of  the  old  fort,  but  the  entire 
population  probably  did  not  exceed  two  hundred  at  that  time. 

There  appeared  to  be  very  little  money  in  circulation.  The 
farmers  had  none,  and  could  only  trade  for  their  produce 
at  the  stores.  They  came  to  our  camp,  and  sold  us  two 
chickens  for  twenty-five  cents,  eggs  at  five  cents  per  dozen, 
two  quarts  of  milk  for  five  cents,  and  other  produce  in  pro- 
portion, and  seemed  to  be  pleased  to  get  real  money.  Two 
guileless  farmer  lads  drove  into  camp  one  day  with  sixty 
pounds  of  choice  butter.  They  said  that  "Ma"  had  told  them 
that  they  must  bring  home  six  dollars  for  it.  They  had  no 
scale,  but  a  soldier  loaned  them  one  of  our  quart  tin  cups, 
which  he  said  would  hold  just  a  pound,  if  filled  and  well 
heaped  up.  When  they  had  sold  all  of  their  butter  at  ten 
cents  per  cup,  they  found  to  their  chagrin  that  they  had  a 
little  less  than  four  dollars  to  take  home  to  "Ma." 

There  were  some  abandoned  farms  around  Fort  Scott,  but 
they  were  quite  a  distance  from  camp.  Some  of  the  soldiers, 
when  they  wanted  green  corn  or  potatoes,  found  it  easier  to 
get  them  from  nearby  farms  when  the  farmer  was  not  look- 
ing. One  day  a  farmer  complained  to  Captain  Lyon  about 
losing  a  calf  and  said  he  thought  he  could  identify  the  soldier 
whom  he  suspected  of  taking  it.  We  were  paraded,  but  when 
he  looked  us  over  he  said  he  could  not  pick  out  his  man  be- 
cause we  all  looked  alike.  Some  of  the  men  who  had  dined 
on  the  calf  made  friends  with  the  farmer,  and  took  him  to  the 

141 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

hotel  in  town.  There  they  filled  him  with  whiskey  and  started 
him  home  feeling  so  happy  that  he  invited  them  all  to  visit 
him  at  his  farm. 

One  day  three  comrades  and  myself  were  enjoying  a  savory 
stew  of  chicken,  young  pork,  potatoes  and  onions.  We  had 
it  in  an  army  mess  pan  which  we  had  placed  on  the  ground 
in  our  tent,  and  we  were  squatted  around  the  pan,  each  dipping 
into  it  with  his  spoon  in  soldier  fashion. 

We  had  just  started  when  one  of  the  men  began  to  sputter 
and  kick. 

"What  in  h is  the  matter  with  you,"  exclaimed  one  of 

the  others.  "Why  don't  you  blow  on  it,  if  it  is  too  hot?" 

Instead  of  acting  on  this  suggestion  the  man  rolled  over 
on  his  back,  his  mouth  frothing  and  his  eyes  distended.  He 
kicked  over  the  pan  and  scattered  our  luscious  dinner  over  the 
tent  floor. 

We  sent  for  the  doctor,  who  after  a  long  time  brought  him 
back  to  consciousness.  The  man  had  had  a  fit.  He  had 
subsequent  attacks  and  was  soon  after  discharged  from  the 
service. 

I  suppose  it  was  this  incident  that  inspired  a  big  red-haired 
Indiana  "hoosier"  in  my  company  to  try  to  get  a  discharge  in 
the  same  way.  One  night  he  disturbed  us  by  groaning  and 
gnashing  his  teeth.  We  found  that  he  was  frothing  soap- 
suds at  the  mouth,  and  was  such  a  bad  actor  that  it  needed 
only  a  glance  to  show  that  he  was  shamming.  The  orderly 
sergeant  threw  a  bucket  of  water  over  him  and  he  had  no 
more  "fits." 

A  lot  of  pigs  belonging  to  the  towns'  people  ran  around 
loose,  and  rooted  about  the  camp  until  they  became  a  nui- 
sance. One  day  a  soldier  who  craved  some  fresh  pork,  not 
daring  to  shoot  a  pig  near  the  camp,  baited  a  large  fish  hook 
with  a  piece  of  meat  and  when  some  of  the  pigs  appeared 
in  the  company  street  he  threw  the  hook  just  outside  of  his 
tent.  Soon  one  of  them  took  the  bait,  and  only  had  time  to 
let  out  one  little  squeal  before  the  "fisherman"  had  him  in  the 

142 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

tent   smothered   in   blankets.      Roast   pork   was   on   the   bill 
of  fare  for  the  mess  next  day. 

We  had  easy  duty  while  at  Fort  Scott  and  plenty  to  eat. 
We  drilled  for  an  hour  during  the  cool  part  of  the  morning, 
for  it  was  very  hot  there  in  midsummer.  After  that  those 
who  were  not  on  guard  or  on  some  detail  had  the  remainder 
of  the  day  at  their  own  disposal.  I  spent  the  greater  part 
of  my  time  on  the  shady  banks  of  the  Marmiton  river,  which 
was  a  fine  lively  stream  of  clear  water  with  rocky  embank- 
ments that  showed  out-croppings  of  soft  coal.  There  were 
plenty  of  fine  fish  in  the  river,  which  we  caught  and  often 
cooked  on  the  bank,  atlhough  our  camp  was  but  a  few  hun- 
dred yards  away.  I  went  in  swimming  several  times  each  day, 
and  enjoyed  it  immensely.  At  the  stream  we  also  washed  our 
clothes  and  sat  under  a  tree  while  they  dried  hung  on  bushes 
in  the  hot  sun. 

One  afternoon,  while  many  of  us  were  at  the  river,  we 
heard  the  "Long  Roll"  beaten  in  the  camp.  We  rushed  back 
and  got  under  arms.  On  a  hill  a  mile  from  camp  we  saw 
two  dozen  mounted  men  who  were  examining  our  camp  and 
prancing  around  in  a  defiant  manner.  They  all  seemed  to 
carry  guns  and  opened  fire  on  us  when  they  saw  us  forming 
ranks.  All  of  their  shots  fell  short,  and  when  Captain  Barry 
sent  a  shell  over  their  heads,  they  soon  scattered.  Pursuit 
was  out  of  the  question,  as  they  were  well  mounted  and  we 
were  on  foot.  This  was  the  only  time  during  our  stay  in 
Kansas  that  we  saw  any  of  the  Border  Ruffians.  They  were 
careful  to  keep  out  of  our  reach.  The  little  incident  caused 
some  excitement  among  the  inhabitants  of  the  town  who  were 
glad  to  have  the  soldiers  there  to  protect  them  from  a  raid. 

I  think  we  had  been  a  month  at  Fort  Scott,  when  we  broke 
camp  one  morning  and  commenced  our  march  to  Lawrence 
on  the  Kansas  River  by  way  of  Ossawatomy,  Kansas.  This 
was  the  place  where  John  Brown  had  a  sharp  fight  with  the 
Missouri  raiders  in  1856,  and  earned  the  name  of  "Old  Ossa- 
watomy Brown."  We  were  told  that  he  was  in  Kansas  at 

143 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

that  time  earnestly  working  for  the  Free  Soilers,  but  I  don't 
think  we  met  him.  We  made  a  leisurely  march.  I  rode  Dr. 
Crawford's  horse  for  five  or  six  miles  every  day.  He  seemed 
to  enjoy  marching  in  the  cool  part  of  the  morning,  as  also 
did  some  of  the  other  officers.  At  night  we  often  camped 
at  some  small  settlement  or  near  a  farm  house.  We  found 
the  natives  ill-informed.  They  seldom  saw  a  newspaper,  and 
knew  but  little  as  to  the  cause  of  all  the  trouble  in  Kansas. 

Some  had  never  seen  any  soldiers  before.  One  good  old 
lady  marveled  at  the  "big  pistols  on  wheels,"  when  she  saw 
the  artillery.  Money  was  almost  a  curiosity  in  some  of  the 
"way-back"  places  through  which  we  passed,  and  they  sold 
us  their  produce  at  ridiculously  low  prices  to  get  a  few  coins. 

We  stayed  but  a  few  days  at  Lawrence  and  then  marched 
south  again  by  a  different  road,  back  to  Fort  Scott.  Our 
empty  wagons  were  sent  from  Lawrence  to  Fort  Leavenworth, 
with  a  small  escort  for  supplies,  and  rejoined  us  later  at 
Fort  Scott.  On  our  re-arrival  there,  Captain  Lyon  encamped 
us  about  a  mile  from  town,  but  as  long  as  we  were  close  to 
the  Marmiton  River  we  cared  little  for  the  town. 

About  the  first  week  in  September,  we  received  orders  to 
return  to  Fort  Leavenworth,  which  we  did  by  the  same  route 
along  the  border  line,  by  which  we  had  come  down.  We  had 
done  a  considerable  amount  of  marching  since  we  had  left 
Fort  Leavenworth,  three  months  before.  Our  clothing  was 
nearly  worn  out,  and  some  of  the  men  would  soon  be  bare- 
footed, for  we  had  left  there  in  very  light  marching  order,  not 
expecting  to  remain  away  so  long.  Clothing  and  shoes  were 
issued  to  us  on  our  arrival  at  the  fort. 

I  look  back  upon  the  summer  I  passed  in  Kansas,  as  an 
excursion  when  compared  with  the  hardship  of  marching  on 
the  prairies.  We  always  found  a  stream,  a  spring  or  a 
farmer's  well  within  easy  distance,  which  obviated  the  neces- 
sity of  making  distressingly  long  marches  on  account  of  the 
scarcity  of  water.  We  also  fared  well  in  the  matter  of  food. 

We  remained  but  a  few  days  at  Fort  Leavenworth  before 

144 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

a  steamboat  arrived  which  was  to  take  us  up  the  Missouri 
River  to  Fort  Randall  again.  This  boat  was  much  smaller 
than  the  others  we  had  traveled  on.  She  was  what  is  called 
a  "stern-wheeler."  Her  paddle-wheels,  on  the  stern  instead 
of  on  the  sides,  made  her  shake  more  than  the  other  type  of 
boat.  She  carried  no  other  passengers,  and  we  had  the  use 
of  the  unfurnished  cabins  on  the  saloon  deck  in  the  rear  next 
to  the  paddle-wheels.  This  boat  was  of  very  light  draft  and 
not  heavily  loaded,  so  we  seldom  ran  on  sand  bars  and  made 
steady  progress.  We  were  tormented  by  mosquitoes  when  the 
boat  was  tied  up  at  night,  and  had  to  make  smokes  on  the 
shore. 

I  became  ill  with  chills  and  fever  soon  after  we  started  and 
remained  so  until  we  arrived  at  Fort  Randall.  Dr.  Crawford 
dosed  me  so  liberally  with  quinine,  that  I  could  scarcely  hear 
anything  at  times. 

We  made  the  trip  from  Leavenworth  to  Randall  in  a  little 
less  than  four  weeks,  and  arrived  there  in  the  middle  of 
October.  We  occupied  our  old  quarters,  and  resumed  the 
usual  duties.  There  were  but  five  companies  at  the  post  then, 
two  others  having  been  sent  away  during  the  summer  to  Fort 
Laramie.  We  arrived  in  time  to  take  part  in  the  fall  duck 
shooting,  and  Sergeant  McVeagh  of  my  company  and  I  got 
a  two-day  pass  to  go  hunting  at  a  lake  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Missouri  River,  about  ten  miles  away,  where  wild  ducks 
and  geese  abounded.  We  borrowed  shot  guns  from  some  of 
the  citizen  employes,  and  carried  blankets  and  some  provisions 
with  us,  intending  to  camp  at  the  lake  for  one  night. 

We  hunted  during  the  afternoon  with  fair  success,  and  as 
evening  approached  made  our  way  toward  one  end  of  the 
lake  where  we  saw  woods  in  which  we  intended  to  camp  for 
the  night.  But  on  approaching  closer  we  noticed  smoke  issuing 
from  the  tops  of  several  Indian  teepees  among  the  trees.  We 
quickly  decided  that  it  would  be  safer  to  trust  to  the  Indians' 
hospitality  than  to  camp  alone,  as  they  had  no  doubt  dis- 
covered our  presence.  A  furious  barking  of  dogs  announced 

145 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

our  arrival,  and  we  entered  the  largest  of  three  lodges.  We 
sat  down,  and  after  the  customary  smoke  we  made  the  savages 
understand  that  we  were  hungry,  and  wanted  to  sleep  in  their 
camp  for  the  night.  The  Indian  assented  by  pointing  to  a 
heap  of  skins  on  one  side  of  the  tent,  and  making  the  sign 
indicating  sleep. 

We  found  that  these  Indians  belong  to  the  Oo-he-non-pas 
(Two  Kettle  Band)  of  the  Yankton  tribe,  and  the  inmates 
of  the  teepee  consisted  of  an  Indian  with  his  two  squaws, 
two  girls  about  my  age,  two  children  five  or  six  years  old, 
and  a  wrinkled  gray-haired  squaw  bent  with  age. 

We  gave  the  squaws  all  the  ducks  we  had  shot.  They 
prepared  some  of  them  for  supper,  also  some  venison  which 
they  had.  The  sergeant  and  I  made  coffee  for  the  whole 
family,  and  shared  our  bread  with  them.  After  supper  we 
gave  the  Indian  some  tobacco,  and  we  smoked  our  own  pipes. 

We  talked  with  all  of  them  as  much  as  our  limited  knowl- 
edge of  their  language  permitted  and  found  out  they  had 
been  far  away  hunting,  and  were  going  to  winter  with  their 
tribes.  They  had  been  at  the  fort  and  knew  the  soldier^. 
Some  visitors  from  the  other  two  lodges  dropped  in.  The 
Indians  showed  us  his  pipes,  his  bows  and  arrows,  his  gun 
and  his  little  curiosities.  He  admired  our  guns,  which  we 
had  kept  loaded,  removing  the  percussion  caps  before  enter- 
ing the  lodge.  The  sergeant  interested  them  with  a  pack 
of  cards,  while  I  amused  the  younger  squaws  by  drawing 
pencil  sketches  for  them,  and  showing  them  my  watch. 

I  began  to  wonder  what  the  arrangements  for  sleeping 
would  be  when  I  noticed  one  of  the  squaws  make  a  bed  of 
buffalo  robes  and  other  skins  on  one  side  of  the  lodge  for 
us,  while  directly  opposite  on  the  other  side  of  the  fire  which 
was  in  the  center  of  the  floor,  she  put  the  two  young  squaws 
to  bed.  First  she  wound  a  horse  hair  rope  many  times  around 
the  lower  limbs  of  each,  to  prevent  them  from  running  away 
with  us  I  suppose.  As  a  further  precaution  she  lay  down 
at  their  side  next  to  the  fire.  The  Indian  with  the  other 

146 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

squaw  slept  opposite  the  opening  to  the  lodge.  The  two 
children  slept  at  the  foot  of  the  young  squaw's  bed  next 
to  the  door,  while  the  old  squaw  was  left  defenceless  and 
alone  to  sleep  at  our  feet  on  the  other  side  of  the  door.  They 
all  lay  down  with  their  clothes  on  so  we  did  the  same,  tak- 
ing off  only  our  coats.  Our  guns  we  laid  next  to  the  side 
of  the  lodge  where  I  slept,  the  sergeant  sleeping  in  front 
next  to  the  fire. 

I  was  tired  and  soon  went  to  sleep.  A  noise  awoke  me 
during  the  night,  but  it  was  only  the  old  crone  putting  a 
few  fagots  on  the  fire  to  keep  it  lighted.  We  arose  soon 
after  daylight.  The  two  girls  had  been  unwound  before  we 
got  up.  We  had  breakfast  and  departed,  not  forgetting 
to  invite  the  family  to  visit  us  at  Fort  Randall. 

We  resumed  our  hunting,  and  soon  had  all  of  the  ducks 
we  were  able  to  carry.  Then,  after  a  lunch  by  the  lake,  we 
took  up  our  tramp  to  the  fort,  where  we  arrived  in  the  evening. 

The  Indian  and  his  family  hunted  us  up  in  a  few  days  at 
the  fort,  but  the  old  squaw  and  the  two  children  were  not 
with  them.  They  came  mounted  on  ponies.  The  sergeant 
and  I  got  them  something  to  eat,  and  bought  the  squaw  a 
few  things  in  the  sutler's  store.  We  gave  a  plug  of  tobacco 
to  the  buck  to  repay  his  hospitality  and  they  all  went  away 
satisfied. 

The  river  closed  early,  and  cold  weather  was  soon  upon  us. 
We  passed  our  time  as  we  had  done  the  previous  winter. 
Nothing  disturbed  our  tranquility,  until  suddenly  in  the  early 
part  of  January  Company  I  and  my  company  were  ordered  to 
go  at  once  to  Niabrara.  Four  army  wagons  mounted  on  run- 
ners were  prepared  to  carry  our  provisions  and  baggage.  One 
of  them  was  fitted  up  with  a  sheet  iron  stove  for  the  officers 
to  ride  and  sleep  in.  It  seemed  that  the  Ponca  Indians,  whose 
village  was  close  to  Niabrara,  had  killed  one  of  the  citizens 
and  committed  depredations  on  the  settlers.  The  villagers 
had  asked  the  commandant  of  Fort  Randall  for  protection. 
The  commanding  officer  sent  a  message  to  "Big  Drum,"  the 

147 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

chief  of  the  Poncas,  and  the  head  men  of  the  tribe  to  come 
to  Fort  Randall,  but  they  paid  no  attention  to  it.  After 
waiting  a  reasonable  time  he  ordered  the  two  companies  to 
go  and  punish  the  Indians. 

The  captain  of  Company  I,  who  commanded  the  expedi- 
tion, was  a  corpulent,  elderly  man,  with  a  large  family.  He 
loved  his  ease  and  had  lost  his  stomach  for  fighting.  When  the 
Civil  War  broke  out  he  soon  resigned  to  spend  his  declin- 
ing years  peacefully  keeping  a  store  in  a  western  town.  The 
other  officers  of  our  little  expedition  were  Captain  Gardner 
and  Lieutenant  O'Connoll  of  my  company  and  a  lieutenant 
of  Company  I. 

We  started  our  march  in  the  forenoon  of  a  very  cold  but 
bright  day  and  climbed  the  hills  below  Fort  Randall.  The 
snow  was  deep,  and  the  thick  crust  on  it  made  marching 
hard  and  tiresome.  It  was  quickly  discovered  that  our 
customary  way  of  marching  by  fours  was  impracticable.  We 
were  reduced  to  twos,  and  as  soon  as  the  two  leading  men 
were  tired  out  breaking  a  path  in  the  deep  snow,  they  stepped 
to  one  side,  and  waited  to  fall  in  line  again  in  the  rear.  The 
officers  rode  their  horses,  but  at  times  took  to  the  warm 
sleigh  which  the  commander  hardly  ever  left.  The  days  were 
short,  and  I  think  we  accomplished  only  a  little  more  than  six 
miles  on  the  first  before  darkness  overtook  us.  We  went 
into  camp  on  the  spot  where  we  halted  on  top  of  a  bleak 
hill,  and  waited  a  while  for  the  sleighs  with  our  baggage  to 
come  up. 

It  was  bitter  cold,  probably  thirty  degrees  below  zero  at 
least,  but  we  had  no  thermometer  to  tell  us  that.  We  shovelled 
away  some  of  the  deep  snow  and  tried  to  put  up  tents  but 
found  it  impossible  to  drive  wooden  tent  pins  into  the  frozen 
ground.  We  therefore  banked  up  the  snow  high  to  the  wind- 
ward, and  made  our  beds  on  the  frozen  ground.  Fortunately 
we  had  plenty  of  robes  and  blankets.  I  slept  in  the  middle 
with  three  in  the  bed,  and  felt  warm  all  night. 

The  cooks  started  a  fire  with  wood  obtained  from  a  nearby 

148 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

ravine,  but  for  water  they  had  to  melt  snow.  We  had  coffee 
before  we  went  to  bed,  which  helped  to  warm  us  up  and 
the  fire  was  kept  burning  all  night.  Snow  had  to  be  melted 
to  water  the  horses  and  mules,  and  to  make  our  coffee  in 
the  morning.  We  slept  in  our  clothes,  removing  only  our 
overcoats  and  boots.  When  we  arose  we  found  that  the  ex- 
halation from  our  bodies  had  caused  a  thick  crust  of  ice 
to  form  on  the  topmost  robe,  while  the  lowest  one  was 
frozen  fast  to  the  ground.  I  had  imprudently  left  my  boots 
and  buffalo  hide  overboots  outside  of  my  bed.  In  the  morn- 
ing they  were  frozen  as  stiff  as  sheet  iron.  I  could  not  put 
them  on  until  a  comrade  had  thawed  them  at  the  fire  for  me. 

The  four  officers  slept  in  the  sleigh  as  best  they  could.  T 
overheard  Captain  Gardner  remark  to  another  officer  next 
morning  while  they  warmed  themselves  at  the  fire  before 
mounting  their  horses,  that  he  had  the  courage,  but  not  the  con- 
stitution to  stand  such  a  march.  Our  corpulent  commander 
did  not  leave  the  sleigh,  and  had  his  breakfast  cooked  and 
brought  to  him  by  his  "dog-robber,"  as  the  men  called  an 
officer's  soldier-servant. 

We  had  a  hard  day's  march  the  next  day,  for  we  kept 
near  the  river  where  it  was  hilly  and  made  about  twelve  miles. 
We  fared  better  on  that  and  on  subsequent  nights,  as  we 
camped  at  the  edge  of  woods  where  we  could  build  roaring 
fires.  Fortunately  we  had  no  snow  storms  to  add  to  the 
rigor  of  the  intense  cold.  We  did  not  put  up  any  tents  dur- 
ing the  march. 

I  think  it  was  on  the  forenoon  of  the  fourth  day,  just  as 
we  got  to  the  brow  of  a  hill,  that  about  fifty  mounted  Indians 
appeared  over  the  crest  of  a  hill  more  than  half  a  mile  away. 
They  seemed  astonished  on  seeing  us  and  halted  for  a  moment. 
An  excited  soldier  discharged  his  rifle  at  them  without  wait- 
ing for  orders  to  fire.  This  caused  nearly  a  dozen  others  to 
fire  before  the  officer  could  stop  them.  At  the  first  shot  the 
Indians  fled  down  the  hill  and  were  out  of  sight  in  a  few 
seconds.  They  did  not  reply  to  our  firing,  which  had  done 

149 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

them  no  harm.     We  learned  a  few  days  later  that  this  was 
a  party  of  Ponca  Indians  on  a  peace  journey  to  Fort  Randall. 

On  the  evening  of  the  fifth  day  we  arrived  at  the  wooded 
bluffs  overlooking  the  Niabrara  River,  near  its  junction  with 
the  Missouri.  On  the  other  side  of  the  river  was  a  small 
settlement  of  about  a  dozen  houses  and  a  hotel  called  "The 
Niabrara."  Next  morning  we  had  a  hard  time  getting  the 
sleighs  down  the  steep  bluffs  to  the  frozen  river.  The  mules 
were  unhitched,  and  the  sleighs  were  slid  down  one  at  a  time 
with  ropes  hitched  around  trees  to  prevent  them  from  descend- 
ing too  fast.  We  got  them  all  down  safely,  crossed  the  river 
and  camped  close  to  the  settlement.  With  great  difficulty  we 
put  up  our  "Sibley"  tents,  using  steel  picket-pins  to  drive 
holes  in  the  ground  before  we  could  insert  the  wooden  tent 
pins.  We  got  brush  in  the  woods  to  cover  the  ground  inside 
the  tents,  and  built  fires  in  the  company  streets,  as  a  fire 
within  the  tent  would  have  thawed  the  frozen  ground,  and 
reduce  it  to  a  quagmire.  The  officers  occupied  rooms  at  the 
hotel  and  messed  there. 

The  large  Ponca  Indian  village  was  but  a  mile  or  two  away, 
and  the  next  day  after  our  arrival  orders  were  sent  to  the 
Indians  to  attend  a  council  on  the  following  morning.  But 
that  night  a  blizzard  which  lasted  for  forty-eight  hours  swept 
down  upon  us  and  caused  intense  suffering.  The  wind  blew 
the  drifting  snow  so  fiercely  that  no  fires  could  be  kept  going. 
It  was  evening  before  the  kindly  proprietor  of  the  hotel  sent 
for  our  cooks  and  allowed  them  to  make  some  hot  coffee  for 
us  in  his  kitchen.  The  next  day  the  storm  continued  with 
unabated  fury.  All  we  could  do  was  to  lie  in  our  tents  cov- 
ered up  with  our  blankets  and  buffalo  robes  to  keep  from 
freezing.  But  we  had  hot. coffee  twice  and  some  warm  soup 
on  the  second  day,  which  put  some  life  into  us. 

The  hotel  at  Niabrara  must  have  been  built  with  an  idea 
that  the  settlement  would  grow  rapidly  like  Sioux  City.  But 
it  had  failed  to  do  so.  The  place  seemed  as  large  as  one 
would  expect  to  find  in  a  western  town  of  two  thousand 

150 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

inhabitants.  It  was  a  frame  building,  clapboarded,  three 
stories  high  with  a  shingled  gabel  roof.  There  was  a  kitchen 
and  dining-room  on  the  first  floor,  also  a  good  sized  bar-room 
and  a  sitting-room.  The  first  two  stories  had  been  plastered, 
but  the  third  was  left  unfinished,  and  had  only  the  clapboards 
and  the  shingles  as  a  protection  against  the  weather. 

I  do  not  know  whether  it  was  an  arrangement  made  by 
our  officers,  or  an  offer  from  the  proprietor,  influenced  per- 
haps by  the  fact  that  at  this  time  there  were  no  guests  at 
the  hotel,  and  that  all  of  the  soldiers  seemed  to  have  money. 
At  any  rate,  when  the  blizzard  was  over,  we  took  down  our 
tents  and  moved  to  the  unfinished  third  floor  of  the  hotel, 
which  was  just  about  large  enough  so  that  all  could  lie  down 
at  night.  There  were  only  about  seventy  of  us,  counting 
cooks,  teamsters  and  "dog-robbers."  It  was  very  cold  up 
there  on  the  top  floor  at  night,  but  we  had  plenty  of  bedding 
and  during  the  day  we  were  allowed  to  sit  in  the  bar  and 
the  sitting-room,  where  there  were  stoves.  We  found  it  an 
agreeable  change  from  the  camp. 

We  cooked  our  own  meals  and  ate  them  where  we  could, 
but  the  proprietor,  who  seemed  a  very  shrewd  sort  of  person, 
served  some  meals  in  the  dining-room  at  fifty  cents  per  head, 
at  which  we  got  fried  bacon,  corn  bread,  flap  jacks  and  coffee 
sweetened  with  molasses,  which  was  all  he  had  to  offer.  He 
had  some  soft  drinks  at  the  bar,  cigars  and  tobacco  and  a 
few  candies  and  crackers.  I  do  not  know  whether  he  had  any 
liquor.  If  he  did,  he  never  sold  any  of  it  to  the  soldiers.  He 
had  his  cook  make  large  quantities  of  corn  bread  and  often 
came  into  the  bar-room  with  slabs  of  it,  shouting:  "Who'll 
have  another  section  for  a  quarter!"  Our  officers  occupied 
rooms  on  the  second  floor  of  the  hotel,  and  had  their  meals 
served  there. 

The  council  with  the  Ponca  Indians  was  held  on  the  day 
after  we  had  moved  into  the  hotel.  All  the  soldiers  not  on 
guard  or  other  duty  to  the  number  of  about  fifty,  were  drawn 
up  under  arms  in  front  of  the  hotel,  when  we  saw  Big  Drum 

151 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

and  his  braves  approaching.  All  of  the  officers  and  soldiers 
knew  the  chief.  They  had  also  met  some  of  the  other  Indians, 
who  had  often  been  at  Fort  Randall,  which  was  but  "one 
sleep"  (two  days  ride)  from  the  Ponca  Village.  The  chief, 
a  man  of  about  fifty  years,  was  the  tallest  and  most  powerful 
member  of  his  tribe.  He  was  a  typical  savage  in  appear- 
ance with  a  large  head  and  face  strongly  pock  marked.  I  had 
seen  him  at  the  fort  considerably  under  the  influence  of  "fire 
water/'  which  had  been  given  to  him  by  some  of  the  officers 
or  the  sutler. 

We  noticed  that  the  Indians  had  come  to  the  council,  con- 
trary to  custom,  almost  fully  armed.  Some  had  guns  with 
them,  which  were  but  ill  concealed  beneath  their  robes  or 
blankets.  Their  weapons  were  probably  loaded,  while  our 
guns  were  not. 

Our  officers  with  a  few  citizens  and  some  interpreters  formed 
a  group  about  twenty  paces  in  front  of  the  center  of  our 
little  battalion,  and  faced  the  Indians  who  out-numbered  us 
more  than  two  to  one.  While  the  "talk"  progressed  the 
Indians  spread  around  the  flanks,  and  in  rear  of  the  officers, 
practically  surrounding  them.  Had  any  trouble  occurred  we 
would  have  had  to  fire  in  their  direction,  and  perhaps  kill  our 
own  officers.  We  wondered  at  the  unwise  and  negligent 
arrangements  of  our  corpulent  commander.  I  think  the  other 
officers  noted  it,  for  when  the  council  was  continued  on  the 
following  day,  our  guns  were  loaded,  our  officers  kept  close 
to  the  front  of  our  ranks,  and  the  Indians  were  not  allowed 
to  spread  around  the  flanks.  At  the  close  of  the  second  day 
of  the  council  Big  Drum  surrendered  four  Indians  as  pris- 
oners. They  were  disarmed,  and  put  in  the  guard  house, 
which  was  a  small  out-building  belonging  to  the  hotel. 

About  three  days  after  the  council,  we  commenced  our 
return  march  to  Fort  Randall,  taking  with  us  the  Indian  pris- 
oners, who  marched  in  rear  of  the  column  with  the  camp 
guard.  We  crossed  the  Missouri  on  the  ice  and  marched 
up  on  the  east  bank,  where  the  land  was  more  level  and 

152 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

the  distance  somewhat  shorter  owing  to  the  curvature  of 
the  river  towards  the  west.  We  crossed  the  Vermillion  River, 
almost  without  noticing  it,  where  it  passed  through  a  piece 
of  prairie.  The  snow  being  so  deep  that  the  banks  were 
scarcely  distinguishable.  We  accomplished  the  distance  in 
three  days'  marching,  and  were  fortunate  not  to  encounter  a 
snow  storm. 

About  noon  on  the  last  day  of  the  march,  I  succumbed  to 
the  severe  fatigue  of  marching  through  the  deep  snow  for 
the  first  time  during  my  service.  I  was  exhausted  and  un- 
able to  go  further.  I  was  put  into  one  of  the  sleighs,  hauled 
by  six  mules,  into  which  some  other  worn  out  and  half  frozen 
soldiers  had  preceded  me.  We  arrived  at  the  fort  after  dark, 
where  I  discovered  that  some  of  my  toes  on  both  feet  were 
badly  frozen.  It  was  about  three  weeks  before  I  was  able 
to  do  duty  again.  A  number  of  the  soldiers  had  been  frost- 
bitten, but  none  seriously. 

After  a  while  Big  Drum,  accompanied  by  some  Indians  of 
his  tribe,  came  to  the  fort,  and  remained  for  some  time.  He 
had  several  interviews  with  the  colonel  in  command,  which 
finally  resulted  in  the  four  Indian  prisoners  being  set  free. 

No  further  trouble  occurred  during  the  remainder  of  the 
winter.  I  began  to  count  the  days  that  remained  before  the 
expiration  of  my  service  on  March  31,  1859.  When  the  day 
arrived  I  received  my  discharge  from  the  service,  but  re- 
mained with  my  company  as  their  guest  until  I  could  get 
transportation  to  the  States.  A  soldier  of  my  company  whose 
term  of  service  had  expired  about  the  same  time  as  mine, 
had  built  himself  a  staunch  boat  with  two  paddle  wheels  to 
be  worked  by  hand  power.  He  proposed  to  descend  the 
Missouri  in  this  boat  to  St.  Louis,  and  invited  me  to  make 
the  journey  with  him.  However,  I  preferred  to  wait  for  a 
steamboat.  He  started  on  his  trip  alone  about  the  middle 
of  April,  but  we  never  heard  how  he  got  along. 

The  ice  in  the  Missouri  broke  up  about  a  week  earlier  than 
usual,  and  the  latter  part  of  April  I  began  to  make  frequent 

153 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

ascents  of  some  of  the  highest  hills  about  Fort  Randall.  From 
their  summits  I  could  look  for  many  miles  down  the  river  and 
watch  for  a  steamboat,  for  I  was  impatient  to  return  to 
civilization.  Finally  the  boat  arrived  on  the  evening  of  the 
first  day  of  May,  somewhat  sooner  than  we  had  expected  her. 
On  this  boat  came  Major  James  Longstreet,  who  was  a  pay- 
master in  the  United  States  Army  and  destined  to  become 
a  Lieutenant  General  in  the  Confederate  Army,  and  a  con- 
spicuous figure  all  through  the  war  of  the  Rebellion. 

Major  Longstreet,  with  the  assistance  of  his  clerk,  J.  T. 
Bradley,  paid  off  the  troops  at  the  fort  next  morning.  I  re- 
ceived all  my  due  pay,  and  my  retained  pay  of  two  dollars 
per  month.  The  retained  pay  was  the  amount  held  back  by 
the  Government  from  each  soldier  since  the  pay  had  been 
raised  in  1854,  to  be  given  to  him  at  the  expiration  of  his  serv- 
ice. I  also  received  more  than  fifty  dollars,  which  I  had 
saved  on  my  clothing  allowance  and  mileage  to  New  York 
City,  the  place  of  my  enlistment.  All  this  amounted  to  over 
three  hundred  dollars — quite  a  sum  of  money  for  a  boy  not 
eighteen  years  old.  It  made  me  feel  wealthy.  From  the  pay 
of  every  soldier  throughout  his  service  there  was  a  monthly 
deduction  of  twelve  and  a  half  cents,  which  went  towards 
the  maintenance  of  the  Soldiers'  Home  at  Washington,  D.  C, 
an  institution  of  great  benefit  to  old  and  indigent  soldiers. 

I  engaged  cabin  passage  on  the  steamer  to  St.  Louis,  as 
did  a  few  other  discharged  soldiers,  among  them  Sergeant 
John  Brown  of  my  company,  whom  I  had  first  met  as  cock- 
swain of  the  Governor's  Island  barge.  Sergeant  Brown  had 
re-enlisted,  and  was  going  on  a  furlough.  Later  on  he  was 
made  an  Ordnance  Sergeant.  A  few  other  discharged  and 
furloughed  soldiers  took  deck  passage.  I  had  sold  or  given 
away  my  clothing  and  bedding,  and  bought  a  suit  of  citizens' 
clothing  at  the  sutler's  store — regular  wild  western  store 
clothes.  I  took  with  me  a  collection  of  Indian  pipes,  mocas- 
sins, bows  and  arrows,  etc.,  and  about  three  days  after  the 
arrival  of  the  steamboat,  I  bade  farewell  to  my  comrades 

154 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

and  to  the  officers  of  my  company,  receiving  some  good  ad- 
vice from  Captain  Gardner. 

Many  of  my  comrades  advised  me  to  remain  in  the  west, 
and  grow  up  with  the  country;  and  I  came  near  doing  so, 
but  a  strong  desire  to  go  to  New  York  and  see  my  mother 
overcame  all  other  considerations.  I  was  still  very  young, 
hopeful  and  ambitious  to  succeed  in  civil  life,  and  I  was 
strong  and  healthy  in  spite  of  the  hardship  and  sufferings 
I  had  endured  in  my  tender  years. 

I  little  thought  at  that  time  that  in  a  year  I  should  re-enlist 
and  serve  in  the  same  company  throughout  the  Civil  War, 
in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  Neither  did  I  think  that  I  was 
too  young  and  inexperienced  at  that  time  for  success  in  civil 
life,  or  that  it  would  require  another  term  of  service  of  harder 
experience  to  mature  and  prepare  me  for  a  permanent  career 
outside  of  the  army. 

There  were  a  few  furloughed  officers  on  the  steamboat, 
among  them  Brevet  Major  Henry  W.  Wessells  of  my  regi- 
ment, an  estimable  officer  who  was  taking  his  eldest  son, 
H.  W.  Wessells,  Jr.,  whom  I  knew  very  well,  to  place  in  a 
school  at  Danbury,  Connecticut.  Young  Wessells  became  a 
Second  Lieutenant  in  the  Army  in  1865,  while  his  father 
was  retireci  as  a  Lieutenant  Colonel  and  Brevet  Brigadier 
General  in  1871. 

We  took  many  passengers  on  the  way  down  the  river,  some 
of  them  very  interesting  and  talkative  people,  but  Major 
Longstreet  and  his  clerk,  Bradley,  led  the  conversations  at 
the  steamer's  public  dining-table.  They  were  not  only  the 
most  interesting  talkers  but  received  the  most  respectful 
attention. 

I  had  not  been  many  days  on  the  river,  when  I  was  afflicted 
with  the  chills  and  fever  again,  and  had  to  keep  to  my  berth 
a  great  part  of  the  time.  It  seemed  as  though  I  was  to 
suffer  from  that  or  dumb-ague  every  time  I  traveled  on  this 
river.  There  was  no  doctor  on  the  boat,  but  an  elderly  col- 
ored man,  the  chief  steward,  heard  of  my  illness  and  came 

155 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

to  see  me.  He  assured  me  that  he  could  cure  me  with  three 
doses  of  medicine,  so  I  would  never  have  the  fever  again. 
For  this  he  sagaciously  demanded  five  dollars  in  advance. 
I  was  desperate,  so  I  gave  him  the  money  and  told  him  to 
go  ahead.  He  brought  me  a  dose  of  medicine,  which  was 
the  vilest  stuff  I  ever  tasted  and  made  me  feel  very  sick. 
After  an  interval  of  a  day  he  brought  me  another  dose,  which 
tasted  so  much  worse  than  the  first  and  made  me  feel  so  ill 
that  no  amount  of  his  persuasion  could  induce  me  to  take 
his  third  dose.  I  vowed  that  I  would  rather  have  the  ague 
for  ever  after  than  to  take  his  medicine.  About  this  time 
we  had  reached  Leavenworth,  where  I  spent  about  half  a 
day  on  shore.  I  began  to  feel  better,  and  before  I  reached 
St.  Louis  I  was  entirely  well. 

At  one  of  the  towns  along  the  river  a  gentleman  and  his 
son  from  Cleveland  or  Rochester,  who  were  traveling  on 
business  in  the  west,  took  passage  for  St.  Louis  and  struck 
up  an  acquaintance  with  me.  The  elder  man  seemed  to  be 
greatly  interested  in  my  experience  in  the  Indian  country,  and 
before  we  reached  St.  Louis  he  invited  me  to  visit  him.  He 
hinted  that  he  would  charge  himself  with  my  future,  if  I  would 
go  with  him;  but  I  declined.  I  was  too  much  bent  on  getting 
back  to  New  York,  where  I  hoped  to  build  up  my  future  by 
my  own  efforts. 

The  river  was  high,  and  we  had  a  quick  passage  to  St. 
Louis,  where  my  companion,  Sergeant  Brown,  and  I  stayed 
for  two  days,  seeing,  after  so  long  in  the  wilderness,  the 
sights  of  a  large  city.  We  left  St.  Louis  for  New  York  on 
a  Saturday  afternoon,  and  arrived  at  Cincinnati  on  Sunday 
morning,  where  we  had  to  lie  over  until  midnight  as  no 
trains  went  out  on  Sunday.  With  a  few  changes  of  cars, 
we  reached  New  York,  where  we  separated,  and  I  went  home. 


1S6 


PART  VII. 

RE-ENLISTMENT  AND  RETURN  TO  FRONTIERS,  1860. 

IT  is  not  my  intention  to  describe  in  detail  my  experiences 
as  a  civilian  during  the  period  between  my  first  and  sec- 
ond enlistments,  but  to  restrict  this  story  to  my  army 
career.  I  will  only  state  here  that  my  lack  of  knowledge 
of  civil  life  made  it  hard  for  me  to  obtain  any  remunerative 
or  permanent  employment.  I  made  all  kinds  of  efforts,  answer- 
ing advertisements  by  letter  or  in  person ;  in  the  latter  case  often 
finding  a  crowd  of  applicants  ahead  of  me,  most  of  whom  had 
some  experience  in  the  kind  of  work  offered.  I  often  walked  the 
streets  looking  for  work  and  felt  heartsick  and  discouraged  at 
my  failure  to  find  employment.  My  little  stock  of  money 
diminished  day  by  day  although  I  practiced  the  strictest 
economy,  spending  a  few  pennies  for  a  mid-day  meal  when  I 
was  tramping  about  the  city.  After  a  time,  during  the  summer, 
I  found  occasional  employment ;  but  it  was  not  until  fall  that  I 
secured  a  steady  job  where,  however,  the  hours  were  long,  the 
pay  small  and  the  work  uncongenial. 

About  the  midde  of  March,  1860,  I  was  visited  by  two  dis- 
charged soldiers  from  my  company  who  had  also  come  to  New 
York,  their  former  home,  in  search  of  employment,  but  without 
success.  They  had  made  up  their  minds  to  re-enlist  and  asked 
me  to  join  them.  I  considered  the  matter  carefully,  and  seeing 
no  prospects  for  advancement,  finding  myself  poorer  finan- 
cially than  if  I  had  remained  in  the  service,  and  having  a  real 
fondness  for  a  soldier's  life,  I  decided  to  give  up  my  employ- 
ment and  try  my  fortune  once  more  in  the  military  service. 

On  the  twenty-fourth  day  of  March,  1860,  my  two  comrades 
and  I  re-enlisted  to  serve  for  five  years  in  the  United  States 

157 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Army.  The  recruiting  office  was  in  Chatham  Street  (now 
called  Park  Row),  New  York  city.  First  Lieutenant  Thomas 
W.  Sweeney  of  my  old  company  was  the  recruiting  officer.  He 
remembered  us,  seemed  glad  to  have  us  return  to  the  service 
and  promised  to  see  to  it  that  we  would  be  restored  to  our 
former  regiment  and  company.  It  was  just  one  year,  lacking  a 
week,  since  I  had  been  discharged  at  Fort  Randall,  Nebraska 
Territory.  My  age  at  my  re-enlistment  was  nineteen  years, 
less  three  months. 

We  passed  the  medical  examination,  were  sworn  into  the 
service  by  a  notary,  and  on  the  same  day  were  sent  to  Governor's 
Island,  New  York  harbor.  As  I  was  no  longer  a  musician  I 
was  assigned  to  quarters  in  the  upper  casemates  of  Castle 
Williams,  along  with  a  number  of  raw  recruits.  I  found  no 
changes  or  improvements  on  the  island  since  I  had  left  it  more 
than  five  years  before;  it  seemed  the  same  as  I  have  already 
described  it,  only  the  officers  had  all  been  changed.  Major  T. 
H.  Holmes  of  the  Eighth  Infantry  was  in  command. 

In  a  few  days  I  drew  my  kit  and  clothing  at  the  quarter- 
master's stores  and  had  to  commence  drilling  along  with  other 
recruits  who  were  being  instructed  by  the  drill-sergeants  in 
their  facings,  marching,  etc.  The  officer  in  command  of  the 
drilling  squads  soon  discovered  that  I  was  well  versed  in  all 
that  was  to  be  taught  the  recruits  and  detailed  me  to  take  a 
few  of  the  stupidest  of  the  lot  to  one  side  and  try  to  instruct 
them.  I  disliked  drilling  this  awkward  squad,  as  it  was  very 
trying  to  my  patience.  They  did  not  seem  to  know  the  left  foot 
from  the  right ;  and  when  ordered  to  keep  their  heads  up,  out 
would  go  their  stomachs.  When  it  came  to  an  "about  face," 
some  of  them  fell  over  themselves. 

One  afternoon  a  comrade  and  myself  were  detailed  for  fatigue 
duty  to  dig  a  grave  for  a  soldier  who  had  died  in  the  hospital. 
We  were  supplied  with  pick  and  shovel  and  conducted  to  the 
island  graveyard  by  a  sergeant  who  marked  out  the  location  and 
the  dimensions  of  the  grave  and  then  left,  after  admonishing  us 
to  be  sure  to  have  the  job  finished  before  two  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  when  the  funeral  was  to  take  place.  Neither  my 

158 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

comrade  nor  I  had  ever  handled  a  pick  or  shovel  before  and  we 
found  the  work  hard.  It  was  a  warm  day  in  April.  We  soon 
grew  tired  and  felt  very  hot  and  dry.  Opportunely  the  sutler's 
store  was  close  by  and  beer  by  the  glass  was  sold  there.  We 
found  it  necessary  to  refresh  ourselves  several  times  during  the 
forenoon  and  to  take  a  good  long  rest  at  noon-time.  At  two 
o'clock  we  were  still  digging  when  we  heard  the  drums  and 
fifes  playing  the  dead-march  and  saw  the  funeral  approaching 
from  the  hospital  close  by.  The  procession  entered  the  grave- 
yard and  lined  up  at  the  grave ;  the  corpse  was  ready,  but  we 
were  not,  for  we  had  dug  a  hole  only  about  four  feet  deep. 
After  a  scolding  we  were  ordered  to  quit — much  to  our  satis- 
faction. A  couple  of  strong  and  husky  Irishmen  soon  dug  the 
hole  to  the  required  depth  of  six  feet  and  the  ceremonies  were 
completed. 

After  a  few  weeks  I  was  trans fered  from  the  castle  to  the 
garrison,  where  both  the  quarters  and  food  were  better.  As  I 
understood  all  the  necessary  drill,  a  rifle  and  accoutrements 
were  issued  to  me  and  I  had  to  take  my  turn  at  guard  duty 
twice  a  week.  I  well  remember  that,  the  first  time  I  was  a 
sentinel  on  post,  I  was  stationed  on  the  shore  facing  Brooklyn, 
in  front  of  some  store  houses,  where  I  paced  for  two  hours  at 
a  time  and  then  was  relieved  and  had  four  hours  off  before 
going  on  post  again.  In  the  day-time  I  could  interest  myself  in 
watching  the  movements  of  steamboats  and  small  craft  on  the 
river,  but  at  night  it  was  lonesome  and  the  time  on  post  seemed 
much  longer.  We  had  a  little  rest  at  night,  during  the  four 
hours  off,  when  we  lay  down  on  a  hard  wooden  platform  in 
the  guard-house  which  was  built  for  that  purpose.  We  had  to 
keep  all  our  clothing  and  accoutrements  on,  and  were  generally 
disturbed  after  midnight  by  sentinel  number  one  in  front  of 
the  guard-house  calling  out,  "Turn  out  the  guard  for  the  officer 
of  the  day"  when  we  hurried  out,  formed  ranks  and  were  in- 
spected by  the  officer  of  the  day,  who  usually  made  the  rounds 
of  all  the  sentinels  on  the  different  posts  at  that  hour. 

There  was  on  the  island  at  that  time  a  sergeant  with  a  Polish 
name  who  had  the  immediate  charge  of  the  raw  recruits.  He 

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TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

was  a  martinet,  a  tyrannical  bully  in  his  treatment  of  the  poor 
and  ignorant  recruits,  who  feared  and  hated  him,  but  he  was 
artful  enough  to  keep  aloof  from  the  old  soldiers  who  under- 
stood their  rights  and  privileges.  He  seemed  to  be  the  most 
detested  non-commissioned  officer  in  the  army. 

I  was  impatient  to  rejoin  my  regiment  on  the  frontier  and  to 
get  away  from  Governor's  Island,  where  my  former  experience 
was  not  a  happy  one ;  but  it  was  not  until  early  in  June  that  a 
detachment  of  recruits  for  the  Ninth  Infantry,  then  serving  in 
Oregon,  was  ready  to  depart.  With  this  detachment  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty,  another  of  fifty,  destined  for  the  Second 
United  States  Infantry,  stationed  in  Dakota  Territory,  was  to 
travel  a  part  of  the  way.  I  secured  a  pass  to  be  absent  for 
forty-eight  hours  and  went  to  the  city  to  bid  farewell  to  my 
mother  and  friends.  One  morning  a  few  days  later  we  formed 
on  the  parade  ground,  fully  equipped  with  knapsack,  haversack, 
tin  cup,  tin  plate,  knife,  fork  and  spoon,  a  canteen  and  three 
days'  rations  of  boiled  salt  pork  and  hard  bread  stowed  in  our 
haversacks ;  but  without  arms.  We  were  escorted  to  the  wharf 
by  the  post  band,  playing  the  usual  airs,  and  embarked  on  a 
steamboat  for  the  Erie  Railroad  depot  in  Jersey  City. 

Upon  our  arrival  at  the  railroad  depot  we  found  a  special 
train  waiting  to  take  us  out  West.  The  soldiers  traveled  in 
emigrant  cars  with  bare  wooden  seats,  very  uncomfortable  to 
ride  in  and  very  fatiguing,  as  we  could  sleep  but  little  in  our 
cramped  positions.  My  experience  on  this  journey  was  similar 
to  that  of  my  first  trip  West  five  years  before.  We  lived  on 
our  rations  with  a  quart-cupful  of  hot  coffee  with  milk  twice  a 
day  at  some  of  the  stations. 

Upon  arriving  at  Chicago  the  fifty  recruits  for  the  Second 
United  States  Infantry,  of  whom  I  was  one,  changed  cars  for 
St.  Louis,  Missouri,  while  the  larger  party  kept  on  West  as  far 
as  the  railroad  went  and  then  had  a  long  march  across  the  plains 
to  Oregon.  From  St.  Louis  we  went  South  a  few  miles  by 
cars  to  Jefferson  Barracks,  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Mississippi 
River,  where  we  arrived  about  the  middle  of  June.  There  were 
few  soldiers  at  the  barracks  at  that  time,  about  a  dozen  re- 

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TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

enlisted  men  awaiting  an  opportunity  to  rejoin  their  regiments, 
like  myself,  and  a  few  score  recruits  in  addition  to  our  detach- 
ment. The  barracks  was  pleasantly  situated  on  high  ground 
overlooking  the  river  and  was  quite  extensive.  The  country 
round  about  was  sparsely  settled,  with  large  stretches  of  still 
uncultivated  land  and  woods.  A  good  road  led  to  the  village  of 
Carondelet  about  half-way  to  St.  Louis.  Midway  between  the 
barracks  and  the  village  was  a  tavern  called  "The  Stone 
House,"  which  was  much  frequented  by  the  soldiers. 

I  was  appointed  lance-corporal  and  helped  to  drill  the 
recruits.  I  was  also  corporal  of  the  guard  about  once  a  week 
and,  as  such,  posted  and  relieved  the  sentinels.  This  gave  me 
plenty  of  spare  time  for  roving  about  the  country,  and  for  fish- 
ing and  swimming  in  the  Mississippi  River.  I  was  exceedingly 
fond  of  swimming  and  for  nearly  three  months,  except  when  on 
guard,  I  had  a  swim  immediately  after  the  reveille  roll-call 
before  breakfast,  rain  or  shine.  The  weather  was  very  hot 
that  summer  and  I  went  into  the  water  generally  twice  more 
during  the  day  and  always  had  a  short  swim  in  the  evening 
after  sundown  to  fasten  a  fish-line  to  a  snag  in  the  river  about 
fifty  yards  from  the  shore,  where  I  often  found  a  catfish  when 
I  examined  the  line  in  the  morning.  It  was  pleasant  to  sit  in 
the  cool  shade  on  the  river-bank  and  see  some  of  the  famous 
Mississippi  river  steam-boats  racing  by,  for  at  that  time  there 
were  still  many  boats  plying  the  river  and  the  levee  at  St.  Louis 
was  crowded  with  them.  Several  times  I  secured  a  pass  for  a 
twenty-four  hours'  visit  to  St.  Louis,  and  walked  six  or  seven 
miles  to  Carondelet  a  few  times  without  a  pass. 

Farm  produce  was  very  cheap ;  we  improved  our  rations  at 
very  little  expense  and  lived  fairly  well  during  the  summer. 

Early  in  September  about  sixty-five  of  the  recruits  destined 
for  the  Second  United  States  Infantry,  myself  among  the  num- 
ber, received  orders  to  proceed  to  St.  Louis  and  there  to  embark 
on  a  steamboat  for  St.  Paul,  Minnesota.  We  boarded  the  cars 
of  the  Iron  Mountain  Railroad  at  the  barracks  station  and  rode 
to  St.  Louis.  It  was  a  long  distance  from  the  railroad  depot  to 
the  steamboat,  which  was  near  the  north  end  of  the  levee ;  the 

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TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

day  was  hot  and  I  staggered  along  under  my  heavily  loaded 
knapsack  and  was  ready  to  drop  when  we  reached  the  steamer. 
My  excessive  swimming  had  weakened  me  to  an  extent  that  I 
was  not  aware  of. 

The  steamer  was  a  regular  passenger  and  freight  boat  of  the 
usual  type ;  there  were  no  bunks  nor  any  kind  of  accommoda- 
tions for  us  and  we  had  to  stay  on  the  lower  deck  with  the 
freight,  spreading  out  blankets  and  sleeping  any  place  we  could 
find  room.  This  proved  to  be  a  great  hardship  for  me,  for  on  the 
second  day  of  our  journey  I  became  ill  with  a  violent  attack  of 
what  we  called  dumb-ague,  which  lasted  until  we  reached  St. 
Paul.  It  seemed  that  every  time  I  traveled  on  the  Missouri  or 
the  Mississippi  rivers  I  was  to  have  a  fever  of  some  sort.  Dr. 
Andrew  K.  Smith,  our  surgeon,  dosed  me  so  liberally  with 
quinine  that  I  was  in  a  stupor,  so  that  my  memory  is  almost  a 
blank  regarding  this  trip  up  the  river.  I  could  not  eat  the 
rations,  but,  fortunately,  had  some  money  and  could  bribe  the 
cabin  cooks  to  give  me  nourishing  soup  and  a  few  delicacies, 
for  which  I  was  grateful.  When  we  landed  at  St.  Paul  I  felt 
better  and  was  able  to  march  to  a  camp  prepared  for  us  a  few 
miles  from  the  city,  where  Sibley  tents  had  been  put  up  and  a 
train  of  about  twenty  army  wagons  with  their  six-mule  teams 
were  ready  to  load  up  with  commissary  and  quartermaster's 
stores  for  Fort  Abercrombie,  Dakota  Territory,  which  was  our 
destination. 

In  a  few  days  we  started  on  our  long  march,  passing  through 
Minneapolis,  and  then  in  a  northwesterly  direction  through  a 
sparsely  settled  country  to  the  town  of  St.  Cloud,  on  the  Miss- 
issippi, which  dwindled  to  a  small  river  at  that  point.  Captain 
Deluzier  Davidson,  together  with  a  lieutenant  and  a  surgeon, 
were  the  officers  of  our  detachment.  I  was  still  weak,  but  im- 
proved rapidly  under  the  influence  of  the  healthy  atmosphere 
and  the  out-of-door  life.  I  could  not  make  a  full  day's  march, 
however,  although  we  carried  no  knapsacks ;  sometimes  I  rode 
the  doctor's  horse  when  he  wanted  to  walk,  or  rode  in  one  of 
the  wagons  when  I  was  tired  out.  We  did  not  attempt  hard 
marches,  but  started  at  sunrise  and  generally  encamped  in  the 

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TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

early  afternoon,  for  Captain  Davidson  loved  his  ease  and  com- 
fort, and  there  was  no  necessity  to  rush  us  along.  At  St.  Cloud 
we  rested  for  a  day  and  washed  our  clothing  in  the  river. 

A  day's  march  after  we  left  St.  Cloud  all  signs  of  settlements 
disappeared  and  we  saw  no  more  until  we  came  to  the  town  of 
Alexandria,  a  cluster  of  houses  on  a  lake,  about  half-way 
between  St.  Paul  and  Fort  Abercrombie.  We  were  now  in  a 
country  full  of  lakes,  large  and  small,  some  of  them  were 
beautiful — the  water  clear  and  teeming  with  fish.  When  we 
arrived  at  the  Otter  Tail  Lake,  which  was  larger  than  any  we 
had  seen,  we  rested  for  another  day  and  were  amazed  at  the 
countless  numbers  of  pelicans  that  we  saw.  These  birds,  when 
not  fishing,  rested  on  the  islands  in  the  lake,  completely  covering 
them,  and  from  a  distance  it  seemed  as  though  they  were 
covered  with  snow.  We  made  a  sort  of  seine  out  of  feed  bags, 
sewed  together  end  to  end,  about  twenty-five  feet  in  length,  and 
fastened  to  a  stick  at  each  end.  Two  men  would  wade  into  the 
lake  for  a  short  distance,  extend  this  seine  and  drag  it  towards 
the  shore,  bringing  with  them  many  fish  that  struggled  and 
wriggled  when  they  got  into  shallow  water,  where  we  picked 
out  with  our  hands  such  of  them  as  we  fancied. 

Although  we  were  in  the  country  of  the  Chippawa  Indian, 
we  saw  none  of  them  until  we  reached  Breckenridge,  an  old 
trading-post,  where  we  met  a  few  of  the  savages.  Brecken- 
ridge was  an  easy  day's  march  from  Fort  Abercrombie.  We 
had  just  finished  establishing  our  camp  there  for  the  night  when 
several  wagons  and  a  small  escort  of  soldiers  arrived  and  halted 
for  a  while.  They  were  from  the  fort  on  their  way  to  St.  Paul, 
and  with  them  was  Captain  William  M.  Gardner  of  my  com- 
pany, going  home  on  a  six-months'  furlough,  accompanied  by 
his  wife  and  negro  servants.  They  rode  in  a  spring  wagon 
(about  the  size  of  an  ambulance)  drawn  by  two  horses.  The 
captain  was  somewhat  surprised  to  find  me  back  in  the  army 
again.  He  talked  with  me  for  a  long  while  and  mentioned  that 
he  would  make  me  a  non-commissioned  officer  as  soon  as  there 
was  a  vacancy  in  the  company.  He  advised  me  to  study  with 
a  view  to  being  admitted  to  the  military  academy  at  West  Point, 

163 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

and  promised  to  use  his  influence,  along  with  that  of  some  other 
officers,  to  obtain  for  me  an  "appointment  at  large"  from  the 
President  when  I  could  qualify  for  admission.  Much  to  my 
regret,  I  never  saw  Captain  Gardner  again.  He  resigned  his 
commission  before  his  furlough  expired  (while  at  his  home  in 
Georgia)  and  joined  the  Confederate  Army. 

The  next  day  we  arrived  at  Fort  Abercrombie.  The  fort  was 
situated  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Red  River  of  the  North,  which 
here  marked  the  dividing  line  between  Dakota  and  Minnesota 
Territories.  This  river  flows  north  and  empties  into  Lake 
Winnipeg  in  the  British  possessions,  while  the  Mississippi,  but 
little  more  than  a  hundred  miles  to  the  east,  flows  south.  The 
Red  river  was  but  a  small  stream,  navigable  for  canoes  only. 
The  most  interesting  thing  about  it  and  the  Wild  Rice  river,  a 
tributary  a  few  miles  away,  were  the  dams  built  by  beavers, 
which  were  plentiful  on  both  rivers.  Muskrats  were  also 
abundant. 

The  place  was  a  fort  in  name  only ;  it  was  in  a  bend  of  the 
river,  whose  course  was  marked  by  a  fringe  of  woods  in  places, 
while  all  else  was  a  bleak,  level  prairie  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
see.  Two  companies  of  my  regiment  had  arrived  here  from 
Fort  Randall  in  the  spring  and  had  built  the  customary  log 
huts,  which  they  were  now  occupying,  in  the  woods  on  the 
low  bottom-land  of  the  river.  Two  other  companies  made  the 
long  march  from  Fort  Laramie,  via  Fort  Randall,  and  had 
arrived  here  in  midsummer.  These  companies  were  engaged  in 
building  permanent  quarters  of  hewn  logs,  with  board  floors 
and  shingled  roofs,  on  the  plateau  which  formed  the  edge 
of  the  prairie.  The  soldiers'  quarters  consisted  of  one  large 
room  to  house  an  entire  company  with  a  wing  for  the  kitchen 
and  mess-room.  These  buildings  had  not  yet  been  completed 
upon  our  arrival  and  the  two  companies  were  in  camp  in  Sibley 
tents.  It  was  the  end  of  September,  the  nights  were  getting  cold 
and  we  had  an  occasional  white  frost  in  the  morning ;  we  were 
a  few  degrees  further  north  than  at  Fort  Pierre  and  on  a  higher 
elevation. 

Our  detachment  of  recruits  was  apportioned  to  the  different 

164 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

companies  and  I  rejoined  Company  D,  in  which  I  had  served 
during  my  first  enlistment.  I  missed  a  number  of  my  old  com- 
rades— they  had  been  discharged  and  had  scattered  throughout 
the  West — but  most  of  the  former  non-commissioned  officers 
had  re-enlisted.  The  first,  or  orderly  sergeant,  as  he  was  also 
called,  had  me  appointed  as  company  clerk,  which  was  an  easy 
job  and  excused  me  from  guard  duty  and  from  work  upon  the 
new  quarters.  This  lasted  for  about  two  months,  when  we  had 
a  dispute  and  I  was  ordered  back  to  do  duty  the  same  as  any 
other  private. 

Fort  Abercrombie  was  a  dreary,  lonesome  place.  The  Chip- 
pawa  Indians  seldom  came  there  and  only  in  small  parties  and 
for  a  short  stay.  Their  villages  were  much  farther  north — as 
far  as  Pembina,  near  the  British  lines. 

A  paymaster  arrived  at  the  post  shortly  after  we  did,  accom- 
panied by  Major  Irving  McDowell,  who  was  an  assistant 
inspector  general.  He  was  a  fine  looking  and  apparently  genial 
officer.  He  made  a  thorough  inspection  of  the  post  and  the 
soldiers.  I  little  thought  then  that  I  would  next  see  him  in 
Washington  after  the  battle  of  Bull  Run,  a  defeated  general. 
The  commander  of  the  post  was  Major  Hannibal  Day  of  the 
Second  Infantry,  a  dignified  old  gentleman  with  long  white 
hair  and  beard  and  a  cold  austere  look  in  his  eyes.  The  com- 
pany commanders  were  Captains  Christopher  S.  Lovell  and 
Deluzier  Davidson;  a  first  lieutenant  was  in  command  of  the 
third  company,  and  my  own  was  commanded  by  Second  Lieu- 
tenant Wm.  H.  Jordan  of  the  Ninth  Infantry,  who  was  tempo- 
rarily attached  to  my  regiment,  our  captain  being  absent  on 
furlough  and  the  first  lieutenant  on  recruiting  service  in  New 
York  city.  A  few  other  second  lieutenants  and  the  surgeon 
made  up  the  complement  of  officers  at  this  time. 

In  October  we  began  to  have  frosts  and  some  snow;  the 
Sibley  tents  were  cold  and  uncomfortable,  as  no  sheet-iron 
stoves  had  been  provided  and  when  we  attempted  to  build 
fires  in  them  the  smoke  drove  us  out.  This  led  to  various  con- 
trivances to  warm  our  tents.  In  my  own  we  dug  a  deep  pit  on 
one  side  and  a  covered  trench  with  two  lateral  branches  extend- 

165 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

ing  from  it  under  the  dirt  floor,  with  openings  outside  of  the 
tent  for  the  smoke  to  escape  from  the  fire  which  was  built  in 
the  pit.  This  system  of  heating  kept  the  tent  comfortably  warm 
except  when  the  wind  was  contrary. 

A  great  snow-storm  and  blizzard  struck  us  in  November  and 
caused  much  suffering.  Fortunately  our  quarters  were  com- 
pleted about  the  end  of  the  month;  we  moved  in  and  enjoyed 
the  comfort  of  sleeping  in  bunks  on  bedsacks  filled  with  dried 
leaves,  and  warming  ourselves  at  the  two  stoves  with  which  our 
quarters  were  provided,  although  the  large  room  except  directly 
around  the  stoves  was  freezing  cold.  In  January  and  Febru- 
ary the  thermometer  sometimes  fell  to  more  than  forty  degrees 
below  zero.  We  had  a  number  of  frost-bite  cases  in  our  little 
log-house  hospital — some  of  them  very  severe — before  our 
unsympathetic  post  commander  issued  an  order  to  relieve  all 
sentinels  except  Post  No.  1,  in  front  of  the  guard  house,  who, 
with  the  temperature  twenty  degrees  minus  zero,  was  to  be 
relieved  every  thirty  minutes. 

I  had  to  take  my  tour  of  guard  duty  about  once  a  week  and 
was  on  post  for  two  hours  at  a  time  with  four  hours  off.  I 
was  warmly  clothed,  but  when  the  temperature  was  down  to 
thirty  or  lower  I  was  chilled  to  the  bone  in  less  than  an  hour. 
In  the  night  I  often  leaned  my  gun  against  a  snowbank  and  beat 
my  hands  against  my  shoulders  vigorously  and  ran  to  and  fro 
the  extent  of  my  beat  to  keep  my  feet  from  freezing.  On  my 
hands  I  wore  a  pair  of  heavy  woolen  gloves  and  over  them 
mittens  made  of  buffalo  skin  with  the  hair  on  the  inside,  yet  my 
fingers  became  so  numb  with  the  cold  that,  if  I  had  had  occasion 
to  fire  off  my  gun,  I  could  not  have  reloaded  it.  From  a 
board  fence  close  to  my  post  the  intense  cold  forced  out  nails, 
which  whirred  through  the  air  with  a  whizzing  sound. 

Wolves  were  plentiful;  they  came  howling  around  our 
kitchens  at  night  and  close  to  the  sentinels — less  than  a  hundred 
feet  away  sometimes,  when  I  shouted  and  rushed  at  them  with 
my  bayonet  to  scare  them  away.  When  a  horse  or  a  mule  died, 
he  was  dragged  out  on  the  prairie  a  short  distance  and  there 
devoured  by  the  wolves.  Traps  were  set  in  the  snow  about  the 

166 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

carcass  and  many  wolves  were  caught,  while  the  others  picked 
the  bones  clean. 

I  was  frequently  excused  from  the  severe  guard  duty  by 
being  selected  as  commanding  officer's  orderly.  This  was  a 
reward  for  the  soldier  whose  clothing,  arms  and  equipment  the 
adjutant  considered  the  cleanest  and  neatest.  A  speck  of  rust  or 
a  small  spot  on  the  clothing  often  put  a  man  out  of  the  race. 
There  was  great  rivalry  for  this  selection  among  the  soldiers, 
for  the  orderly  had  an  easy  time.  He  could  sit  in  a  warm  room 
in  the  commanding  officer's  quarters,  carry  a  few  messages 
during  the  day  and  sleep  in  his  own  bunk  all  night. 

During  the  long,  dreary  winter  we  kept  within  doors,  when 
not  on  duty,  for  the  inclemency  of  the  weather  permitted  but 
little  out-of-door  exercise.  In  compliance  with  Captain  Gard- 
ner's advice,  I  borrowed  text-books  from  Lieutenant  Jordan, 
who  was  but  lately  from  West  Point,  also  from  some  other 
officers,  and  studied  them  all  through  the  winter  during  my 
spare  time.  Some  soldiers  read  papers  and  magazines,  but  the 
favorite  pastime  was  playing  checkers  and  cards;  the  games 
were  euchre,  seven-up,  forty-five  and  poker,  at  which  the  stakes 
were  dried  beans  instead  of  money. 

An  enterprising  citizen  established  an  express  service 
between  St.  Paul  and  Fort  Abercrombie  with  way-stations  for 
the  changing  of  drivers  and  horses.  This  gave  us  a  mail 
service  once  a  week,  when  the  weather  permitted,  and  kept  us 
in  touch  with  the  world.  The  expressman  took  orders  from 
us  for  any  articles  we  wished  from  St.  Paul  and  brought  up 
the  packages,  as  well  as  goods  for  the  sutler. 

There  was  a  Scotchman  in  my  company,  whom  we  called 
Sandy,  who  was  an  excellent  cook  and  a  born  caterer.  During 
the  winter  he  proposed  to  get  up  a  dinner  to  be  followed  by 
dancing  in  the  company's  mess-room.  Permission  was  obtained 
for  "Sandy's  ball,"  as  we  called  it;  most  of  the  company  sub- 
scribed, as  well  as  some  soldiers  from  the  other  companies. 
Sandy  shrewdly  collected  the  cash  and  gave  no  credit,  then  he 
sent  to  St.  Paul  for  stone  china  dishes,  for  we  had  only  tin 
cups  and  plates  in  our  mess-room.  He  ordered  hams,  tongues, 

167 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

sardines,  pickles,  preserves,  lemons,  etc.,  not  forgetting  a  few 
dozen  bottles  of  American  champagne,  which  had  been  care- 
fully packed  with  sawdust  into  barrels  both  for  safety  and  con- 
cealment. These  goods  arrived  in  due  time  and  Sandy  was  a 
busy  man,  cooking  hams  and  venison  and  baking  pies  and  cakes. 
We  helped  him  put  up  a  few  decorations  and  a  lot  of  candles 
around  the  walls. 

All  was  ready  when  the  eventful  evening  arrived.  The  dinner 
was  to  be  at  eight  o'clock,  followed  by  dancing  until  midnight, 
with  two  fiddlers  and  a  flute  player  to  furnish  the  music.  A 
half  dozen  soldiers'  wives  were  the  only  ladies  present ;  but  we 
had  as  many  more  of  the  younger  men  dressed  up  in  borrowed 
female  clothes.  The  dinner  was  voted  a  great  success  and  we 
lauded  Sandy.  We  had  bottled  ale  from  the  sutler's  and  topped 
off  with  whiskey  punch,  which  continued  to  be  served  through- 
out the  evening.  Then  the  tables  and  benches  were  moved 
into  a  corner,  the  dishes  piled  on  them,  and  the  dancing  com- 
menced. 

Everything  went  well  for  a  while  and  we  had  lots  of  fun, 
until  trouble  started  between  the  fiddlers.  One  of  them,  Mike 
Burns,  had  partaken  of  too  much  punch  and  wanted  to  play  an 
Irish  jig,  while  his  German  partner  held  out  for  a  waltz.  This 
enraged  Mike  so  that  he  exclaimed,  "Oi  despises  no  nation,  but 
damn  the  Dutch!"  and  smashed  his  fiddle  over  his  partner's 
head.  The  combatants  were  separated,  Mike  was  put  out,  order 
restored  and  the  dancing  resumed.  While  the  dance  went  on 
Sandy  had  been  busy  in  the  kitchen  selling  Ohio  champagne  to 
the  soldiers  at  steep  prices.  This,  together  with  liberal  quantities 
of  whiskey  punch,  began  to  show  its  effects  and  the  fun  became 
fast  and  furious,  until  near  midnight  a  fight  started  in  one  end 
of  the  room  and  in  a  moment  a  dozen  or  more  of  the  soldiers 
were  in  the  midst  of  it.  Bottles  and  dishes  were  thrown  about 
the  room ;  the  women  screamed  and  rushed  for  the  door ;  Sandy 
was  up  on  a  table  waving  his  arms  and  shouting,  "Quit  yer 
fechting!  dinna  be  breaking  me  dishes,  I'm  a  puir  mon,"  when 
the  table  upset  and  he  went  down  to  the  floor  among  his  broken 
dishes.  The  officer  of  the  day  and  a  few  files  of  the  guard, 

168 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

together  with  the  corporal,  now  made  their  appearance  and 
quelled  the  disturbance.  All  those  who  showed  marks  of  having 
been  fighting  or  were  drunk  were  marched  off  to  the  guard- 
house and  all  others  ordered  to  their  quarters. 

Sandy's  ball  had  a  sad  sequel  for  him.  He  was  a  canny  Scot 
and  took  good  care  of  his  bawbees  (pence),  saving  much  of  his 
pay  for  some  years,  and  it  was  assumed  that  he  had  made 
money  out  of  the  ball.  A  few  weeks  later,  during  midwinter, 
Sandy  was  missing  for  nearly  a  week  and  when  he  was  at  last 
brought  back  to  the  post  in  the  express  sleigh  he  had  to  be  put 
into  the  hospital  with  his  feet  so  badly  frozen  that  all  of  his  toes 
on  both  feet  had  to  be  amputated.  He  remained  in  the  hospital 
until  spring,  when  he  was  able  to  go  about  on  crutches.  He  was 
then  dishonorably  discharged,  forfeiting  his  pay  due  and  all 
allowances.  In  the  woods  close  to  the  post  we  built  a  shack 
for  him  to  live  in,  also  a  stable,  for  he  bought  some  cows  and 
had  them  sent  up  from  the  settlements.  There  he  made  his 
living  by  selling  milk  and  butter  to  the  soldiers  and  ice  cream, 
at  which  he  was  an  adept.  By  the  time  we  left  the  post  he 
had  discarded  his  crutches  and  was  able  to  hobble  about  on  his 
stumps. 

Newspapers  kept  us  informed  of  what  transpired  in  the 
southern  states  after  Lincoln's  election  to  the  presidency  in 
November ;  how  the  violent  threats  of  the  south  culminated  in 
the  secession  of  South  Carolina  from  the  Union  on  December 
twentieth,  1860,  soon  to  be  followed  by  other  southern  states. 
We  read  how  Major  Anderson  transferred  his  small  force  from 
Fort  Moultry  to  Sumpter,  and  about  the  firing  on  the  steamer 
"Star  of  the  West"  with  reinforcements  for  Fort  Sumpter.  We 
also  heard  that  the  Secretary  of  War,  John  B.  Floyd,  was 
accused  of  robbing  the  Indian  Trust  Funds  and  of  depleting  the 
Northern  arsenals  of  arms  and  ammunition  and  of  sending 
them  south  while  still  in  office ;  also  how  in  February  General 
Twiggs  traitorously  surrendered  the  Seventh  United  States  In- 
fantry and  other  troops  serving  in  Texas  to  the  Confederacy ; 
and  how  the  rank  and  file  refused  the  inducements  held  out  to 
them  to  join  the  Confederate  army,  but  were  paroled  and  later 

169 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

on  exchanged  and  did  valiant  service  in  the  Union  army,  while 
a  large  number  of  their  officers  joined  the  standard  of  the 
enemy.  We  discussed  these  events  earnestly  and  were  much 
stirred  when  we  learned  that  Fort  Sumpter  had  been  bombard- 
ed on  April  twelfth  and  evacuated  by  Major  Anderson.  We 
then  understood  that  this  was  the  commencement  of  war. 

Militia  soldiers  from  Pennsylvania  reached  Washington  a 
few  days  later  and  on  the  fifteenth  of  April  the  President 
called  out  seventy-five  thousand  volunteers  to  serve  for  three 
months.  Another  proclamation  of  the  President,  dated  May 
third  for  an  increase  of  the  regular  army  by  twenty-two  thou- 
sand and  of  the  navy  by  eighteen  thousand,  was  read  to  us  on 
dress  parade.  In  the  meantime  hundreds  of  the  officers  of  the 
regular  army  had  resigned  their  commissions  and  nearly  all 
joined  the  Confederacy,  among  them  my  captain  and  some  other 
officers  of  my  regiment.  To  the  credit  of  the  rank  and  file  be 
it  said  that,  with  very  few  exceptions,  they  remained  loyal  to 
the  Government  in  the  hour  of  its  need.  We  began  to  wonder 
whether  we  were  likely  to  take  any  part  in  putting  down  the 
rebellion  before  it  was  over,  or  whether  we  were  to  remain  here 
in  the  Indian  country. 

Spring  had  come.  When  the  snow  had  melted  and  the 
prairie  became  dry,  we  began  to  drill  from  three  to  four  hours 
each  day  except  on  Saturday  afternoons  and  Sundays.  We  had 
company,  battalion,  skirmish  and  bayonet  drills,  as  well  as 
target  practice,  and  in  a  few  months  we  became  very  expert  in 
all  of  them.  I  was  fond  of  the  free  action  in  skirmish  drill,  but 
did  not  like  drilling  in  close  formation.  I  also  liked  the  bayonet 
exercise,  and  at  target  practice  few  could  show  a  better  score. 

When  not  on  duty  we  spent  much  of  our  time  at  the  river, 
fishing,  and  swimming  after  the  water  had  become  warm 
enough.  A  favorite  diversion  was  to  go  up  the  river  a  few  miles 
and  build  a  small  raft  of  sticks  to  hold  our  clothes,  swimming 
and  pushing  the  raft  before  us  down  the  current  which  flowed 
through  sha'dy  woods.  A  small  party  of  Chippawa  Indians  and 
squaws  appeared  a  few  times  during  the  early  summer  and 
danced  for  rations,  which  was  the  only  thing  that  relieved  the 
monotony  at  this  post. 

170 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

We  read  of  small  engagements  that  had  taken  place  between 
the  opposing  forces  in  various  parts  of  the  country  and  that  an 
army  was  being  concentrated  at  Washington,  where  two  com- 
panies of  our  regiment  from  Fort  Snelling,  Minnesota,  had 
gone.  We  envied  these  companies ;  they  had  a  chance  to  see 
something  of  the  war,  which  would  soon  be  over,  as  we 
imagined,  while  we  fretted  and  chafed  in  this  lonely,  far-off 
place,  seemingly  forgotten  by  the  Government.  At  last,  about 
the  middle  of  July,  we  received  the  joyful  news  that  two  com- 
panies of  the  Second  Minnesota  Volunteers  were  on  the  way 
from  St.  Paul  to  relieve  us  and  that  we  were  ordered  to  Wash- 
ington. In  a  few  days  the  two  companies  arrived,  weary  and 
footsore  from  their  long  march.  Most  of  them  were  very 
young  lads  who,  though  strong  and  hearty,  were  unaccustomed 
to  marching  on  the  burning  hot  prairies  in  midsummer.  They 
had  arms  and  accoutrements,  but  as  yet  no  uniforms.  We  gave 
them  a  hearty  reception,  fraternized  with  them  and  helped  to 
make  them  comfortable  in  their  camp  until  they  could  occupy 
our  quarters. 

We  packed  our  dress  uniforms,  hats  and  surplus  clothing  into 
packing-cases  from  the  quartermaster's  department,  which  were 
received  some  time  after  our  arrival  in  Washington.  In  a  few 
days  our  wagon-train  was  made  up,  we  put  our  knapsacks  on 
board,  and  left  Fort  Abercrombie  without  any  regrets,  early  on 
a  forenoon,  amidst  mutual  cheering  and  a  salute  of  "Present 
arms!"  from  the  battalion  of  volunteers.  All  of  the  officers' 
ladies,  as  they  called  themselves,  and  the  soldiers'  wives  and 
children  went  with  us,  riding  in  ambulances  and  in  the  army 
wagons. 

Our  first  day's  march  ended  at  Breckenridge ;  our  second 
day's  march  was  a  much  longer  one — we  pursued  about  the 
same  route  as  in  the  previous  fall  when  we  came  up  from  St. 
Paul,  but  did  not  have  the  short  marches  we  had  enjoyed  with 
the  easy-going  Captain  Davidson.  We  soon  found  out  that 
Major  Hannibal  Day  was  forcing  us  along  at  a  rate  of  from 
twenty-four  to  thirty  miles  a  day,  which  was  very  severe  in  the 
scorching  heat  of  a  July  sun  on  the  prairies.  A  number  of  men 

171 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

gave  out  on  these  long  marches  and  were  picked  up  by  the  rear- 
guard and  put  into  the  wagons.  To  be  sure,  we  were  anxious 
to  get  to  Washington  before  the  war  would  be  over,  but  we  did 
not  want  to  kill  ourselves  in  trying  to  get  there.  The  men 
cursed  the  Major  for  an  old  tyrant,  not  loud  but  very  deep. 

We  had  completed  about  one-half  of  our  journey  to  St.  Paul 
when  we  encountered  the  express  wagon  carrying  the  mail  to 
Fort  Abercrombie  and  from  newspapers  received  learned  of 
the  disaster  and  rout  of  the  Union  Army  at  Bull  Run.  This  sad 
news  staggered  us — we  could  scarcely  believe  it.  The  northern 
press,  from  which  we  derived  our  information  and  shaped  our 
opinions,  had  boasted  so  much  about  the  patriotism  and  valor 
of  the  militia,  who  so  promptly  responded  to  the  President's 
first  call  for  troops,  that  we  had  fondly  believed  a  single  real 
battle  would  be  enough  to  give  the  Confederacy  a  terrible  lesson 
and  break  up  the  rebellion.  We  were  indignant  at  the  conduct  of 
some  of  the  Union  troops,  as  we  then  understood  it,  the  news 
of  Bull  Run  cast  a  deep  gloom  over  our  battalion  and  we  real- 
ized that  we  were  likely  to  arrive  at  Washington  in  ample  time 
to  see  something  of  the  war. 

Major  Day,  upon  whom  we  looked  as  a  very  unfeeling  man, 
allowed  us  some  unusual  privileges  on  this  march.  At  St. 
Cloud  a  brewery  had  been  erected,  and  when  we  were  within 
four  days'  march  of  the  town  one  forenoon  we  met  a  two-horse 
wagon  loaded  with  kegs  of  lager  beer,  packed  in  ice  and  care- 
fully covered  over  to  shield  it  from  the  fierce  rays  of  the  sun. 
There  was  a  man  on  the  wagon  beside  the  driver  who,  we 
noticed,  had  some  talk  with  the  Major  and  then  turned  the 
wagon  around  and  followed  our  column  until  we  halted  for  a 
rest,  when  we  learned  that  each  man  who  desired  to  do  so  might 
purchase  a  quart  cup  of  beer  for  ten  cents  (a  non-commissioned 
officer  saw  to  it  that  no  one  got  more  than  a  quart).  A  rush 
was  made  for  the  beer  wagon  and  keg  after  keg  was  tapped.  It 
tasted  delicious  and  cheered  us.  The  officers  also  drank  it, 
sending  their  servants  for  it ;  indeed,  old  Major  Day,  himself, 
did  not  disdain  it.  The  beer  wagon  met  us  every  day  there- 
after, near  noontime,  all  the  way  down  to  St.  Paul,  and  when  it 

172 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

appeared  we  halted  for  a  longer  rest  at  the  next  convenient 
place  and  ate  our  lunch. 

The  Union  sentiment  was  strong  in  the  few  small  settlements 
through  which  we  passed.  At  St.  Cloud,  where  we  encamped 
about  a  mile  from  town  and  rested  for  a  day,  the  citizens  gave 
us  a  generous  welcome.  A  lady  named  Jane  G.  C.  Swisshelm, 
who  edited  a  newspaper  there  called  "The  Visitor,"  assisted  by 
a  committee  of  citizens  and  accompanied  by  the  St.  Cloud  band, 
drove  out  to  our  camp,  bringing  with  them  a  fine  lunch  and 
kegs  of  beer,  for  which  we  were  very  grateful.  We  gave  her 
and  the  citizens  of  St.  Cloud  three  rousing  cheers  when  they 
departed. 

The  last  day's  march  but  one  brought  us  to  Minneapolis, 
where  we  encamped  for  the  night  on  some  fields  just  outside  of 
the  town,  too  tired  and  worn  out  to  care  for  anything  but  to 
lie  down  and  rest.  This  had  been  the  hardest  day's  march  of 
all — Major  Day  had  made  us  cover  thirty-two  miles.  Many 
men  dropped  out  along  the  dusty  road,  overcome  by  the  heat 
and  fatigue ;  some  fell  asleep  in  shady  places  and  did  not  reach 
camp  until  midnight.  I  was  one  of  only  a  third  of  my  company 
that  was  able  to  keep  in  the  ranks  until  we  reached  camp.  As 
the  race  is  not  always  to  the  swift,  so  marching  is  not  always 
the  forte  of  the  biggest  and  strongest  men  in  a  company  of 
soldiers. 

Next  morning  we  resumed  our  march  somewhat  later  than 
was  customary,  passing  through  Minneapolis,  which  was  but  a 
small  town  then,  on  to  St.  Paul,  about  ten  miles  away.  The 
road  between  the  two  places  had  only  farms  and  a  few  clusters 
of  houses  scattered  along  it.  Upon  arriving  at  St.  Paul  we 
marched  to  the  steamboat  wharf  with  closed  ranks  and  received 
much  attention  and  cheering  from  the  citizens.  When  our 
wagon-train  arrived,  we  got  our  knapsacks  and  the  four  com- 
panies boarded  a  steamboat  which  was  waiting  for  us ;  we 
stowed  ourselves  away  wherever  we  could  find  room,  except  on 
the  cabin  deck,  which  was  reserved  for  passengers.  There  was 
no  railroad  at  St.  Paul  then.  We  were  to  go  down  the  Mississ- 
ippi as  far  as  La  Crosse,  Wisconsin,  and  take  the  cars  there. 

173 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

We  sailed  in  the  early  afternoon ;  the  boat  was  crowded  and 
the  weather  very  hot.  When  night  came  on  my  bunkie  and  I, 
along  with  others,  spread  our  blankets  on  the  hurricane  deck 
back  of  the  smokestacks.  We  took  off  our  shoes  and  blouses, 
used  our  knapsacks  for  pillows  and  the  starry  sky  for  a  cover- 
ing. Being  very  tired,  we  were  soon  in  a  deep  sleep.  During 
the  night  I  was  awakened  by  a  terrific  yell  and  saw  that  my 
bunkie  was  sitting  up,  clutching  at  his  chest  and  roaring  with 
pain.  I  was  confused,  and  for  a  moment  I  imagined  the  boat 
was  on  fire,  as  I  saw  fiery  sparks  in  the  air.  We  soon  discovered 
the  cause  of  the  trouble.  A  large  red-hot  cinder  from  the 
smokestack  (the  boat  burned  wood  for  fuel  and  had  high- 
pressure  engines)  had  lodged  on  his  bare  breast  through  his 
open  shirt  and  burned  him  severely  enough  to  raise  a  large 
blister.  We  moved  our  bed  to  a  safer  place  and  slept  peace- 
fully for  the  remainder  of  the  hot  night. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  on  the  following  day  we  disembarked 
at  La  Crosse,  where  we  noticed  a  train  made  up  of  one  passen- 
ger car  and  a  lot  of  empty  box  cars  which  was  apparently  wait- 
ing for  us.  We  were  indignant  and  loudly  expressed  our 
determination  not  to  enter  these  cars  and  travel  like  cattle.  The 
officers  who,  no  doubt,  overheard  us,  must  have  been  of  the 
same  opinion,  for  we  were  not  ordered  into  the  cars  but  stacked 
arms  and  waited  about  three  hours  until  a  number  of  cars  with 
hard  wooden  seats  came  along  to  replace  the  others.  We 
embarked  and  started  for  Chicago. 

After  a  weary  night  we  arrived  in  Chicago  the  next  day, 
where  a  change  of  cars  was  made,  much  for  the  better,  as  we 
got  cushioned  seats  this  time.  We  remained  there  about  two 
hours  and  during  that  time  crowds  of  citizens  surrounded  us 
and  served  us  with  coffee,  sandwiches  and  pies,  and  presented 
us  with  cigars  and  tobacco.  At  Chicago  we  lost  two  men  by 
desertion — the  only  ones  on  the  entire  trip.  We  also  lost 
Captain  Davidson,  who  remained  behind  and  later  on  resigned 
his  commission.  He  was  an  elderly  man,  very  corpulent  and 
unable  to  stand  the  hardships  of  a  campaign. 

All    through    the    loyal    western    states    across    which    we 

174 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

traveled  there  had  been  an  uprising  for  the  Union.  The  people 
were  enthusiastic  and  gave  us  a  hearty  welcome  wherever  we 
stopped.  At  a  town  in  Indiana,  where  we  arrived  near  mid- 
night, the  citizens  must  have  been  informed  of  our  coming. 
The  station  platform  was  crowded  with  people  and  they  had 
a  band  playing  patriotic  airs.  A  group  of  young  ladies,  all 
dressed  in  white  and  wearing  red-white-and-blue  sashes,  sang 
'The  Star  Spangled  Banner"  for  us.  Since  the  news  of  defeat 
at  Bull  Run  the  people  were  ready  to  make  any  sacrifice;  the 
Northern  papers  clamored  for  the  formation  of  a  new  army 
and  an  immediate  advance  "on  to  Richmond."  It  must  have 
been  during  the  time  of  this  national  excitement  and  enthusiasm 
that  Josh  Billings  wrote  the  memorable  words,  "The  Union 
must  and  shall  be  preserved,  if  I  sacrifice  all  my  wife's  rela- 
tions." 

On  our  arrival  in  Harrisburg,  Pennsylvania,  in  the  forenoon, 
the  depot  was  jammed  with  people.  Provisions  enough  for  a 
feast  and  baskets  of  fruit  were  brought  into  our  cars ;  it  seemed 
as  though  everyone  in  the  crowd  wished  to  do  something  for  us. 
After  leaving  Harrisburg  we  received  orders  to  load  our  rifles, 
for  there  were  rumors  of  expected  trouble  in  Baltimore  while 
the  troops  were  traversing  the  city  from  one  depot  to  another, 
for  at  this  time  the  trains  did  not  pass  through  to  the  Washing- 
ton depot  and  it  was  necessary  to  march  a  long  distance  through 
the  streets  of  the  city.  We  reached  Baltimore  about  four  in 
the  afternoon,  formed  ranks  in  the  street,  fixed  bayonets  and 
marched  by  fours  in  close  order  with  the  venerable  Major 
Hannibal  Day  leading  us.  We  carried  our  knapsacks,  haver- 
sacks and  canteens ;  we  were  dusty  and  dirty  and  bronzed  by 
the  hot  sun  on  our  recent  march  across  the  prairies.  There 
were  four  companies  of  us  and  we  looked  more  seasoned  and 
determined  than  the  militia  troops  that  had  passed  through 
Baltimore  before.  We  marched  silently,  only  words  of  com- 
mand being  heard.  There  were  many  people  on  the  streets 
regarding  us  with  close  attention.  Sometimes  a  ruffian  yelled 
out,  "Bull  Run !"  which  provoked  no  reply  from  us.  A  large, 
red-headed  woman  leaning  out  of  a  third-story  window  shouted, 

175 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

"Three  cheers  for  Jeff  Davis !"  but  got  very  scant  encourage- 
ment from  the  people  in  the  street. 

We  reached  the  depot  without  having  any  trouble,  but  were 
kept  waiting  there  a  long  time  and  it  was  quite  dusk  in  the 
evening  when  we  embarked  for  Washington,  arriving  at  the 
national  capitol  late  in  the  evening.  In  Washington  we  formed 
ranks  and  marched  to  the  "Soldiers'  Rest,"  a  large  shed-building 
north  of  the  capitol  and  but  a  short  distance  from  it,  where 
newly  arrived  troops  received  food  and  rested  for  a  short  time 
before  going  to  their  camps  or  quarters.  The  place  had  a  board 
floor  on  which  we  spread  our  blankets.  We  were  glad  to 
stretch  ourselves  for  we  were  very  tired  and  stiff  after  our  ride 
of  three  days  and  nights  in  a  cramped  position  on  the  narrow 
seats  of  the  cars.  I  think  I  fell  asleep  as  soon  as  I  lay  down, 
and  no  ordinary  noise  could  have  waked  me  up  before  morning. 


176 


PART  VIII. 
SERVICE  IN  WASHINGTON  AND  GEORGETOWN,  D.  C.f  1861-1862. 

WHEN  I  awoke  on  my  first  morning  in  Washington,  I 
hastened  out  of  doors  to  have  a  look  around.  The 
first  prominent  object  I  saw  was  the  great  white 
capitol  building,  the  steel  ribs  of  its  unfinished  dome  strongly 
outlined  against  a  clear  sky.  I  took  a  long  look  at  everything 
in  view  and  then  answered  roll-call  and  had  breakfast  in  the 
"Soldiers'  Rest,"  after  which  we  formed  ranks  in  the  street, 
where  we  "stacked  arms"  and  waited  for  orders,  watching 
meanwhile  the  arrival  of  some  volunteer  troops  who  had  just 
come  in  on  the  cars  and  marched  into  the  "Soldiers'  Rest." 
Troops  were  beginning  to  arrive  daily  in  large  numbers  in 
response  to  the  President's  call  for  "four  hundred  thousand 
more."  About  ten  o'clock  in  the  forenoon  we  received  orders 
to  "fall  in"  and  the  four  companies  separated,  being  sent  to 
quarters  in  different  parts  of  the  city. 

My  company  marched  up  Pennsylvania  Avenue  toward  the 
White  House.  On  the  way  some  ladies  presented  each  man 
with  a  Havelock,  which  is  a  cover  for  the  forage  cap  and  was 
made  of  white  muslin  and  with  a  hood  to  protect  the  back  of 
the  head  and  neck  from  the  sun's  rays.  They  had  been  much 
worn  by  English  soldiers  in  India  during  Major-General  Sir 
Henry  Havelock's  time,  and  looked  very  fine  when  an  entire 
regiment  wore  them  on  parade;  but  in  less  than  a  year  their 
use  was  abandoned,  as  they  were  too  conspicuous  and  kept 
the  air  from  our  necks.  Our  march  ended  at  a  house  on  the 
north  side  of  K,  near  Eighteenth  Street,  which  was  to  be  our 
quarters.  It  was  a  three-story  and  basement  private  dwelling 
of  the  usual  type  and  was  devoid  of  any  furniture.  It  belonged 

177 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

to  a  secessionist  and,  like  a  number  of  others,  had  been  taken 
charge  of  by  the  Government.  We  drew  rations  and  did  our 
cooking  in  the  basement  and  used  the  upper  floors  for  sleeping, 
at  night  spreading  our  blankets  on  the  bare  floor.  We  had  only 
light  duties  to  perform,  which  left  us  plenty  of  time  to  wander 
about  the  city,  visit  the  capitol  and  other  public  buildings.  Only 
the  principal  streets  in  Washington  were  paved  at  this  time,  the 
remainder  were  mud  roads  rendered  almost  impassable  in  rainy 
weather  by  the  artillery  and  army  wagons. 

It  was  the  first  week  in  August;  most  of  the  three-months' 
warriors  had  left  for  their  homes  and  order  was  being 
restored.  The  streets  were  patroled  by  regulars  and  all  soldiers 
found  in  the  city  without  permission  were  arrested,  taken  to  a 
central  guard-house  and  then  returned  to  their  respective  com- 
mands. General  George  B.  McClellan  had  been  called  to  Wash- 
ington immediately  after  the  battle  of  Bull  Run  and  placed  in 
command  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  He  was  busy  with  his 
staff  in  organizing  a  great  army.  Our  quarters  being  but  a 
short  distance  from  the  headquarters  of  General  McClellan,  I 
had  frequent  opportunities  of  seeing  him  there  and  also  riding 
through  the  streets,  followed  by  a  brilliant  staff,  among  whom 
were  a  number  of  foreign  officers  in  showy  uniforms  adorned 
with  decorations  and  much  gold  lace.  I  also  saw  President 
Lincoln  on  the  avenue  a  few  times  and  saw  his  boys  in  Zouave 
uniforms  "playing  soldier"  with  some  companions  on  the  lawn 
in  front  of  the  White  House. 

There  were  probably  not  more  than  fifty  thousand  troops  in 
and  about  Washington  upon  our  arrival,  but  they  soon  began 
to  come  in  at  a  rate  of  forty  thousand  a  month,  so  that  by  the 
first  of  November,  1861,  the  numbers  had  reached  one  hundred 
and  seventy  thousand.  They  were  young  men  who  enlisted  for 
three  years  or  the  duration  of  the  war ;  they  were  patriotic  and 
earnest  and  were  not  tempted  to  enlist  by  the  payment  of 
bounties.  These  soldiers  became  the  flower  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  and,  I  think,  were  not  equaled  by  any  subsequent 
levies. 

A  thousand  regular  soldiers  had  preceded  our  small  command 

178 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

to  Washington  and  about  eight  hundred  of  them  had  been  in 
the  engagement  at  Bull  Run,  including  some  marines.  Among 
them  were  also  the  two  companies  of  our  regiment  previously 
mentioned.  From  them  we  learned  many  details  of  what 
occurred  on  that  disastrous  day.  This  small  body  of  eight 
hundred  regulars  and  marines  were  unaffected  by  the  panic  and 
covered  the  retreat  of  the  Federal  Army.  Many  of  the  regulars 
were  quartered  near  the  then  outskirts  of  the  city  on  the  north 
side  in  hastily  constructed  wooden  buildings,  which  were  called 
Kalorama  Barracks.  There  were  at  that  time  six  companies  of 
my  regiment  in  Washington,  also  the  regiment  headquarters 
and  the  band.  Four  other  companies  were  with  the  western 
armies  and  remained  there  throughout  the  war.  During  my 
entire  ten  years'  service  I  never  saw  more  than  six  companies 
of  the  regiment  together  at  one  time. 

After  a  stay  of  about  two  weeks  in  the  K  Street  house  in 
Washington  my  company  (D)  and  Company  A  were  ordered  to 
Georgetown  and  quartered  in  Forrest  Hall,  a  large  sized  build- 
ing on  the  corner  of  what  were  then  called  High  and  Gay 
Streets.  This  building  is  still  standing  at  this  date  (1913). 
There  was  a  large  entertainment  hall  on  the  second  floor  with 
a  raised  stage  at  one  end  and  many  wooden  benches  on  the 
floor.  Company  A  occupied  this  apartment,  while  my  company 
took  the  third  floor,  which  was  divided  into  rooms.  We  slept 
on  the  bare  floors,  as  we  had  done  in  K  Street,  but  had  the  ad- 
ditional comfort  of  some  of  the  wooden  benches  to  sit  on.  The 
first  floor  was  used  for  a  guard-house  with  a  large  room  for 
prisoners  brought  in  by  the  patrols ;  the  basement,  which  had  an 
alley  on  the  rear  leading  out  into  Gay  Street,  was  used  for  our 
kitchen. 

On  the  hot  day  that  we  moved  into  this  building  a  severe 
thunderstorm  broke  out  in  the  afternoon  and  the  rain  fell  in 
torrents.  We  thought  this  a  good  opportunity  to  get  a  refresh- 
ing bath,  and  as  the  high  roof  of  the  building  could  not  be 
overlooked  from  any  of  the  houses  in  the  neighborhood,  a 
number  of  us  took  off  our  clothing  and  ascended  to  the  roof 
and  remained  there  until  the  storm  was  over ;  later  on  we  took 

179 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

our  baths  in  Rock  Creek  and  our  swims  in  the  Potomac  above 
the  Aqueduct  Bridge. 

It  was  the  custom  then  in  the  regular  army  for  every  private 
soldier  to  serve  a  term  of  two  weeks  as  company  cook.  There 
were  two  cooks  to  each  company,  a  head  cook  and  an  assistant. 
After  serving  as  assistant  for  a  week,  one  then  became  chef, 
unless  the  chef  was  satisfactory  and  desired  to  remain  longer. 
It  often  happened  that  both  of  the  cooks  remained  for  months ; 
they  got  no  extra  pay,  but  were  relieved  from  all  other  duties 
and  had  some  perquisites  in  selling  soap-grease,  if  there  was  a 
market  for  it.  It  was  my  hard  luck  to  be  detailed  as  assistant 
cook  after  we  arrived  at  Forrest  Hall,  much  to  my  disgust. 
After  a  week's  service  I  was  declared  to  be  a  failure  and  re- 
turned to  company  duty. 

A  few  days  later  a  vacancy  occurred  and  I  was  promoted  to 
corporal  with  two  dollars  per  month  additional  pay,  making 
fifteen  dollars  per  month,  for  the  pay  of  the  army  had  been 
raised  from  eleven  to  thirteen  dollars  per  month  for  a  private 
soldier.  About  this  time  we  received  four  months'  pay  in 
greenbacks  with  coupons  attached  to  the  larger  notes — the  ten 
and  twenty  dollar  bills,  I  think.  Heretofore  we  had  always 
been  paid  in  gold  and  silver. 

We  were  busy  while  in  Georgetown ;  we  kept  a  main  guard 
with  a  sergeant  at  the  hall  in  charge  of  the  prisoners,  a  corporal 
and  six  privates  at  the  Aqueduct  Bridge,  and  the  same  at  the 
foot  of  High  Street,  where  there  was  a  flat-boat  rope  ferry  to 
Analostan  Island  in  the  Potomac  opposite  Georgetown.  The 
two  companies  in  Georgetown  did  not  have  their  full  comple- 
ment of  men ;  some  had  been  detailed  as  clerks  in  the  War 
Department,  and  others  as  orderlies  at  army  headquarters  on 
"extra  duty,"  as  it  was  called.  This  made  us  somewhat  short 
on  the  "present  for  duty"  number  and  caused  a  tour  of  twenty- 
four  hours  on  guard  every  three  days  or  less.  We  also  did 
considerable  drilling  in  company  and  skirmish  drills,  sometimes 
brigade  drills  and  a  few  reviews  for  General  McClellan  and 
staff.  We  had  to  patrol  the  streets  of  Geogretown  from  eight 
A.  M.  till  ten  P.  M.  for  two  hours  on  and  two  off.  The  patrol 

180 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

was  a  squad  of  eight  privates  under  a  sergeant  or  a  corporal, 
often  accompanied  by  an  officer  in  the  daytime.  This  patrol 
had  authority  to  enter  saloons  and  other  places  and  search  them 
for  soldiers  and  demand  their  passes ;  every  soldier  on  the  street 
was  halted,  and  if  he  had  no  pass  or  a  poor  excuse  he  was  told 
to  fall  into  the  ranks  and  march  with  the  patrol  until  it  repassed 
or  returned  to  the  main  guard,  where  he  was  turned  over  to  the 
sergeant,  who  recorded  his  name,  company  and  regiment  and 
then  locked  him  up.  There  was,  however,  considerable  leniency 
both  on  the  part  of  the  officers  and  the  non-commissioned 
officers  in  command  of  the  patrol ;  if  the  soldier  were  sober  and 
had  some  sort  of  a  plausible  excuse,  he  was  often  simply 
ordered  to  get  out  of  town  quickly  and  return  to  his  camp.  It 
was  the  drunks  that  gave  us  trouble,  when  we  tried  to  march 
them  in  the  ranks.  In  some  extreme  cases  we  took  them  to  the 
guard-house  in  a  borrowed  hand-cart.  One  day  the  patrol 
arrived  just  in  time  to  save  the  "Eagle  Bakery,"  where  a 
drunken  soldier  was  wrecking  the  place  because  he  failed  to 
get  a  baked  eagle  he  had  ordered. 

About  this  time  a  very  young  officer  named  William  Kicld, 
who  belonged  to  a  prominent  New  York  family,  joined  my 
company  as  second  lieutenant.  He  was  a  civil  appointee  and 
knew  very  little  about  drill  or  military  matters  in  general,  but 
was  trying  to  learn.  He  was  well  liked  by  the  men  for  his 
genial  nature.  Often  when  I  was  on  patrol  with  him  he  would 
say,  "Now,  Corporal,  you  head  her  in  any  direction  you  like 
and  don't  march  too  fast."  He  let  many  a  soldier  off  with  a 
reprimand  such  as,  "If  I  catch  you  in  town  again  without  a 
pass  I'll  have  you  court-martialed  and  shot  before  sunrise." 
Sometimes  he  stopped  at  a  cigar  store  and  bought  cigars  for  the 
patrol,  which  he  handed  to  us  when  we  were  dismissed.  Lieu- 
tenant Kidd,  to  our  great  regret  and  sorrow,  was  killed  in  less 
than  a  year  at  the  second  battle  of  Bull  Run. 

One  evening  I  received  word  from  a  friend,  a  sergeant  of  a 
New  York  regiment  which  was  encamped  a  short  distance  from 
Georgetown  on  the  Tennalytown  road  that  he  had  been  arrested 
by  the  patrol  and  wished  me  to  try  and  have  him  released  so 

181 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

that  he  might  return  to  his  camp  that  night,  as  he  feared  that 
if  he  was  returned  to  his  regiment  from  the  central  guard  house 
it  would  mean  the  loss  of  his  sergeant's  stripes  and  reduction  to 
the  ranks.  I  implored  the  sergeant  of  our  main  guard  to  release 
him,  but  he  refused  as  he  had  just  reported  the  number  of  his 
prisoners  to  the  officer  of  the  day.  He  agreed,  however,  to 
make  an  exchange  with  me  if  I  brought  him  another  prisoner 
when  I  went  out  on  patrol  from  eight  to  ten  that  evening.  I 
started  out  with  my  squad  at  the  appointed  time.  It  was  a 
stormy  night,  the  wind  howled  and  the  rain  beat  fiercely  upon 
us;  the  streets  seemed  deserted  and  there  were  no  soldiers  in 
sight.  Instead  of  resting  at  times  in  a  sheltered  place,  as  we 
were  accustomed  to  do  in  bad  weather,  I  kept  my  patrol  moving 
and  visited  most  of  the  places  where  soldiers  were  in  the  habit 
of  congregating,  despite  the  grumbling  of  my  squad.  Our 
time  was  nearly  up  and  I  had  encountered  but  two  or  three 
soldiers,  whom  I  could  not  arrest  as  they  showed  me  passes.  I 
was  in  despair,  when  suddenly,  while  passing  along  Bridge 
Street  on  our  return  to  the  guard  house,  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
blue  uniform  in  the  back  room  of  a  saloon,  through  a  partly 
opened  door.  I  halted  my  squad  and  went  into  the  saloon, 
where  I  found  a  soldier  asleep  on  a  chair.  I  shook  him  and 
demanded  to  see  his  pass.  He  was  mildly  inebriated,  but 
managed  to  explain  that  he  was  on  duty  as  a  nurse  in  the 
hospital  close  by  and  did  not  require  a  pass  in  Georgetown, 
but  not  having  a  pass  was  enough  for  me.  I  took  him  out,  put 
him  into  the  ranks  and  turned  him  over  to  the  sergeant  of  the 
guard  in  exchange  for  my  friend,  who  hurried  off  to  his  camp. 
The  man  I  arrested  was  soon  released  by  the  sergeant  when  he 
satisfied  him  as  to  the  truth  of  his  story. 

Every  morning  at  eight  o'clock  when  the  guard  was  relieved, 
the  old  guard  was  obliged  to  take  the  prisoners  picked  up  during 
the  twenty- four  hours  and  march  them  to  the  Central  Guard 
House  in  Washington,  situated  just  off  Pennsylvania  Avenue 
near  the  market.  This  was  a  long  and  tiresome  tramp  after  a 
night  on  guard.  We  often  had  a  couple  of  dozen  prisoners, 
some  of  them  unruly  and  others  scarcely  able  to  march  after 

182 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

their  spree.  After  our  return  from  the  Central  Guard  House 
the  old  guard  was  excused  from  duty  and  rested  until  retreat 
that  evening.  The  men  whom  we  arrested  in  the  streets  were 
volunteer  soldiers,  almost  without  exception,  from  the  different 
camps  about  Washington. 

Occasionally  I  was  corporal  of  the  main  guard  at  Forrest 
Hall  and  was  surprised  to  observe  the  effect  of  drink  on  the 
prisoners  at  different  times.  They  were  all  locked  up  together 
in  one  large  room  with  a  sentinel  outside  of  the  door.  The 
prisoners  from  our  own  command,  when  we  had  any,  were 
confined  in  a  smaller  room.  In  the  large  room  the  prisoners 
were  sometimes  hilarious  and  noisy  with  laughter,  while  at 
other  times  they  were  sad  and  melancholy,  many  of  them  crying 
for  "home  and  mother,"  and  others  shedding  silent  tears.  At 
still  other  times  they  seemed  to  have  imbibed  fighting  whiskey 
and  were  quarrelsome,  fighting  fiercely  among  themselves  or 
against  the  guard  who  had  to  go  in  and  separate  them ;  some  we 
could  only  subdue  by  tying  their  limbs.  It  was  a  job  we  did  not 
relish.  Some  of  them  threw  bottles  at  the  guards  and  other 
objects  which  had  escaped  the  sergeant's  search  at  the  time  of 
their  admission. 

Our  two  companies  had  the  free  run  of  Georgetown  to  go 
where  we  pleased  when  not  on  duty,  but  if  we  crossed  the  Rock 
Creek  bridge  and  went  into  Washington  without  a  pass,  we 
were  in  turn  liable  to  be  arrested  by  the  provost-guard's  patrol 
and  put  into  the  Central  Guard  House.  We  were  well  posted 
on  the  time  and  route  of  the  patrols  and  knew  how  to  elude 
them. 

Another  of  our  duties  was  to  furnish  an  escort  to  the  ceme- 
tery for  all  the  soldiers  who  died  in  what  was  called  the 
Seminary  Hospital  located  at  Georgetown.  The  cemetery  was 
in  the  grounds  of  the  Soldiers'  Home,  a  long  way  from  George- 
town, a  very  tiresome  march  over  a  poor  road.  At  these 
funerals  there  was  no  music  or  ceremony  of  any  kind ;  no  one 
but  the  escort  of  eight  privates  and  a  corporal  marched  with 
the  ambulance  which  carried  the  corpse.  On  the  arrival  at  the 
cemetery  we  found  only  grave-diggers  constantly  busy  digging 

183 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

graves  for  the  many  soldiers  who  died  in  the  hospitals  or  camps 
in  or  about  Washington.  The  coffin  was  unloaded  and  left  on 
the  ground  beside  the  grave  to  await  the  leisure  of  the  grave- 
diggers;  the  escort  fired  the  three  customary  rounds  of  blank 
cartridges  over  the  coffin  and  hurried  away.  At  some  distance 
from  the  cemetery,  where  the  road  was  lonely,  we  climbed  into 
the  ambulance  and  rode  to  the  outskirts  of  Georgetown.  During 
the  winter  when  the  weather  was  bad  and  the  mud  ankle-deep 
on  the  road,  the  escort  took  their  chances  and  halted  the 
ambulance  near  a  road-house  about  half-way  fired  the  three 
rounds  and  waited  at  the  road-house  playing  cards  until  the 
driver,  whom  they  bound  to  secrecy,  passed  on  his  return. 
This  went  on  for  some  time  until  one  day  a  firing  squad  was 
discovered  at  it  and  punished. 

Towards  the  close  of  1861  many  changes  had  taken  place 
among  the  officers  of  my  regiment.  Aside  from  the  few  who 
had  resigned  to  join  the  Confederate  army,  nearly  all  were 
advanced  in  rank;  colonels  and  majors  and  some  captains 
became  brigadier-generals  or  colonels  of  volunteers.  The 
twelve  new  regiments  added  to  the  regular  army  absorbed 
many  of  our  captains  and  first  lieutenants  who  gained  a  step 
in  rank  by  the  transfer.  The  lower  grades  were  filled  mainly 
by  civilian  appointments,  fnany  of  them  through  influence  more 
than  any  adaptability  for  a  military  life,  as  was  demonstrated 
later  on.  The  Government  began  to  make  some  appointments 
from  the  ranks  and  later  on  increased  them.  These  men, 
appointed  from  the  ranks,  as  a  rule  made  efficient  and  reliable 
officers,  whom  the  rank  and  file  could  respect.  Dixon  S.  Miles 
became  colonel  of  my  regiment  and  remained  so  until  he  was 
killed  at  Harper 's  Ferry  in  1862,  but  we  never  saw  him,  as  he 
had  a  higher  volunteer  rank.  All  of  our  former  field  officers 
were  promoted  and  replaced  by  others,  some  of  whom  we 
never  saw.  The  regular  army,  small  in  numbers,  was  stripped 
of  many  of  its  best  officers.  All  through  the  war,  companies 
were  largely  in  command  of  first  lieutenants  and  regiments 
were  often  commanded  by  senior  captains.  My  company  was 
particularly  unfortunate  at  this  time  in  having  for  its  captain, 

184 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

and  serving  with  it,  the  lieutenant  who  had  joined  the  regiment 
in  1857  at  Fort  Randall  whom  we  had  dubbed  our  "Alcoholic 
Lieutenant,"  and  whose  name  I  withhold  because  I  cannot  say 
anything  to  his  credit.  He  had  gained  the  rank  of  captain  by 
seniority  because  of  the  general  promotions  at  this  time.  Our 
first  lieutenant  was  William  H.  Jordan  of  the  Ninth  Infantry, 
who  had  never  as  yet  seen  his  own  regiment  in  the  West  since 
he  left  West  Point  in  1860.  He  was  an  estimable  officer,  who 
remained  with  my  company  until  he  was  severely  wounded  at 
the  battle  of  Games'  Mill  in  1862.  Our  second  lieutenant  was 
William  Kidd,  who  was  killed  in  battle,  as  previously  men- 
tioned. Major  William  Chapman  was  in  command  of  the  six 
companies  of  my  regiment  in  Washington  at  this  time ;  he  was 
well  along  in  years  and  retired  early  in  the  war.  He  was  a 
good  disciplinarian  and  an  excellent  drill-master. 

In  the  late  fall  of  1861  the  regular  troops  in  Washington,  old 
and  new  regiments,  had  been  augmented  to  nearly  three  thou- 
sand and  were  formed  into  a  brigade  under  the  command  of 
Major  George  Sykes  of  the  Fourteenth  Infantry,  who  held  the 
rank  of  brigadier-general  of  volunteers  and  later  on  became  a 
major-general.  I  think  he  was  one  of  the  best  tacticians  in  the 
army  and  a  very  capable  officer.  He  drilled  the  brigade  in 
line  of  battle  manoeuvres  occasionally  on  a  large  field  near  the 
Kalorama  Barracks.  We  made  a  fine  appearance  in  full  uni- 
form, marching  down  Pennsylvania  Avenue  and  out  Seventh 
Street  to  the  drill  ground,  with  our  bands  playing  and  colors 
flying.  I  liked  this  parade  and  drill;  when  we  turned  the 
corner  of  Fifteenth  Street  and  I  looked  down  the  avenue  and 
saw  a  great  mass  of  bayonets  glittering  in  the  sun  ahead  of  me 
it  was  impressive — a  sight  I  had  never  witnessed  in  my  pre- 
vious service.  Major  Chapman,  who  commanded  our  bat- 
talions, never  made  an  error  in  executing  General  Sykes's 
commands  in  these  brigade  drills,  but,  alas!  some  of  the  new 
fledglings  of  first  lieutenants  in  command  of  companies  often 
got  tangled  up ;  this  angered  the  major  and  caused  him  to  say 
sharply,  "Mr.  Long,  face  your  company  to  the  front!  Mr. 
Freeman,  bring  your  company  on  the  right  by  file  into  line! 

185 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Mr.  Goodrich,  you  are  obliquing  your  company  to  the  left 
instead  of  to  the  right,"  etc.,  all  of  which  was  very  annoying 
to  me,  for  it  destroyed  the  movements  of  other  companies  and 
hurt  the  pride  I  always  had  in  marching  and  drilling  correctly. 
Our  first  sergeants  were  able  to  coach  the  inexperienced  officers 
and  did  so  quietly  on  parade.  Fortunately  for  my  company, 
our  captain  never  appeared  at  brigade  drills  and  Lieutenant 
Jordan  put  us  through  our  paces  very  creditably.  The  brigade 
drills  ended  with  a  "Pass  in  review!"  before  General  Sykes 
and  his  aides-de-camp.  This  movement  was  often  executed  in 
"double  quick  time,"  which  gave  rise  to  a  story  that  the  general 
made  us  double  quick  because  his  little  daughter  used  to  say 
to  him,  "Pa,  make  'em  twot !"  which  amused  her  greatly.  The 
general  lived  with  his  family  in  a  house  overlooking  the  parade 
ground  where  they  could  see  all  the  manoeuvres  of  the  troops. 
We  were  also  reviewed  on  the  same  parade  ground  by  General 
McClellan  and  staff,  but  upon  that  occasion  did  not  have  to 
trot. 

I  was  often  on  guard  at  the  Aqueduct  Bridge  and  at  the 
Ferry  and  liked  that  duty  much  better  than  guarding  prisoners. 
The  Chesapeake  and  Ohio  canal  crossed  the  Potomac  river  here 
on  its  way  to  Alexandria,  Virginia,  by  means  of  the  Aqueduct 
Bridge.  At  the  breaking  out  of  the  war  the  water  had  been 
shut  off  and  the  bridge  solidly  planked  over  to  serve  as  a 
roadway  for  pedestrians  and  vehicles.  A  small  guard  room 
had  been  built  for  the  shelter  of  the  six  men  and  corporal 
composing  the  guard  on  the  Georgetown  side.  A  sentinel  was 
stationed  on  each  side  of  the  entrance  to  the  bridge.  Our 
orders  were  to  permit  no  soldier  to  pass  or  repass  the  bridge 
without  a  properly  signed  and  countersigned  pass,  and  no  civil- 
ian without  a  pass  from  the  provost-marshal's  office  in  Wash- 
ington. Officers  unaccompanied  by  troops  were  also  to  show 
passes,  except  those  of  high  rank  who  were  supposed  to  be 
known  to  us. 

We  were  also  to  search  for  and  to  prevent  the  smuggling  of 
liquor  to  the  soldiers  encamped  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
river;  but  I  am  afraid  we  were  somewhat  lax  in  carrying  out 

186 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

that  part  of  our  orders,  as  we  did  not  like  to  act  as  custom- 
house inspectors,  considering  that  unmilitary.  If  the  person 
halted  carried  a  package  or  basket  we  generally  took  his  or  her 
word  for  it  that  it  contained  no  liquor  and  passed  them  on 
without  examination,  except  in  cases  of  inebriety  or  when  they 
were  insolent  to  the  guard. 

I  think  women  did  more  smuggling  of  liquor  than  the  men. 
Many  got  passes  from  the  provost-marshal  to  visit  their  soldier 
relatives  or  friends  encamped  on  the  other  side  of  the  river. 
They  generally  came  on  foot  and  carried  baskets  or  packages 
containing  food  and  articles  of  clothing  for  the  soldiers,  as 
they  invariably  informed  the  guard,  and  some  became  indignant 
when  they  were  asked  the  usual  question  about  liquor.  One 
day  as  I  was  examining  the  pass  of  a  large,  good-natured- 
looking  woman  with  a  fine  broad  smile,  I  heard  a  tinkling  sound 
with  every  movement  she  made  and  noticed  that  she  wore 
unusually  large  hoop  skirts  which  made  her  look  like  an 
animated  haystack  from  the  waist  down.  I  asked  her  if  she 
carried  any  liquor  about  her  and  was  met  by  an  emphatic 
denial.  I  put  my  hand  on  her  waist  and  gave  the  skirt  a  shake 
which  caused  an  audible  jingle  of  bottles,  and  asked  her, 
"What's  that,  Mama?"  "Whisth!  Sergeant,  dear,  shure  it's 
sody-wather  for  the  bys!"  she  said  laughingly.  I  was  in  a 
dilemma.  She  evidently  had  bottles  of  liquor  strung  all  around 
her  waist  beneath  the  large  hoops  she  wore;  but  I  could  not 
take  them  from  her  without  undressing  her,  which  was  incon- 
venient at  the  time  and  place ;  besides  it  was  such  a  clever  trick 
that  it  deserved  success,  and  I  let  her  pass. 

Some  sutlers  had  permits  to  carry  liquor  for  officers'  messes 
in  their  wagons;  others  carried  barrels  which  they  declared 
contained  beer  or  cider,  which  we  were  allowed  to  pass,  as  we 
had  no  means  of  testing  it  anyway. 

We  got  to  know  many  of  the  sutlers  by  sight ;  their  wagons 
bore  the  regimental  designation  to  which  they  belonged  and, 
as  we  knew  they  had  passes,  we  did  not  always  halt  them. 
Occasionally  some  of  them  tossed  a  package  to  the  guards 
containing  cigars,  tobacco,  crackers  and  cheese  or  a  can  of 

187 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

preserved  fruit.  The  sentinels  halted  every  passenger  and 
vehicle,  with  this  exception,  looked  at  the  pass  and  in 
cases  of  doubt  called  on  the  corporal  of  the  guard  for  his 
decision  of  the  case. 

Sometimes  General  McClellan,  who,  since  General  Scott's 
retirement,  was  commander-in-chief  of  the  United  States 
Army,  passed  over  the  bridge  with  his  staff  to  review  troops  or 
examine  defences  on  the  other  side.  It  was  here  that  I  first 
saw  the  Orleans  princes,  the  Due  de  Chartres  and  the  Comte 
de  Paris,  who  were  aides  on  his  staff.  The  Due  was  a  very 
young  looking  man. 

The  Fourteenth  New  York  Volunteers,  better  known  as 
Colonel  Fowler's  Fourteenth  Brooklyn  Regiment,  were  en- 
camped on  Arlington  Heights  and  guarded  the  Virginia  end  of 
the  bridge.  We  became  acquainted  with  many  of  them  and 
were  on  friendly  terms,  often  letting  some  of  them  pass  into 
Georgetown  at  night,  cautioning  them  to  look  sharply  for  the 
officer  of  the  day  on  their  return. 

When  my  guard  was  relieved  in  the  morning,  we  discharged 
our  rifles  into  the  river,  firing  at  some  floating  object,  instead 
of  drawing  the  charges ;  sometimes  I  threw  an  empty  bottle 
into  the  river  and  frequently  knocked  off  the  neck  with  a  ball 
from  my  rifle. 

While  on  guard  at  the  bridge  I  had  many  opportunities  to 
observe  the  uniforms,  arms  and  equipments  of  the  volunteer 
soldiers  who  crossed  and  went  into  camp  on  the  other  side. 
A  few  of  the  regiments  were  armed  with  Springfield  rifles,  as 
we  were,  but  the  greater  part  of  them  had  arms  of  foreign 
manufacture;  there  were  English  rifles,  Belgian  and  Austrian 
muskets  and  even  some  of  the  old  "smooth-bores"  of  the 
Mexican  War  time,  which  the  traitor,  Secretary  of  War 
Floyd,  had  not  deemed  worthy  of  removal  from  the  Northern 
arsenals.  The  Government  had  hastily  purchased  these  arms 
abroad  and  as  all  the  calibres  differed,  serious  confusion  re- 
sulted sometimes  through  issuing  the  wrong  ammunition.  It 
was  more  than  a  year  before  there  was  anything  like  uniform- 
ity in  the  arms  of  the  infantry  regiments.  Their  uniforms 

188 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

were  also  diversified ;  many  still  wore  the  gray  uniforms  issued 
to  them  by  the  states  they  came  from;  some  had  a  sort  of 
German  uniform ;  and  the  Garibaldi  Guard,  an  Italian  one ;  the 
Fifty-fifth  New  York  Volunteers,  Colonel  De  Trobriand,  wore 
a  distinctly  French  uniform,  including  the  red  breeches  and 
"kepi."  Another  distinct  uniform  was  that  of  the  Chasseurs 
d'Afrique,  and  there  were  others;  also  a  number  of  Zouave 
regiments,  some  with  red  breeches  and  some  with  blue,  some 
wearing  white  turbans  and  some  only  a  red  Fez  cap  on  their 
heads.  In  the  course  of  a  long  time  this  was  remedied  and  all 
wore  the  regulation  uniform,  except  some  of  the  Zouave  regi- 
ments, who  were  permitted  to  retain  theirs  to  the  end  of  their 
term  of  service.  In  the  month  of  September  at  Fall's  Church, 
Virginia,  one  of  our  gray  uniformed  regiments  was  fired  into 
by  another  of  our  regiments  who  mistook  them  for  "graybacks" 
(rebels)  and  sixty  or  so  were  killed  and  wounded  before  the 
mistake  was  discovered.  Lamentable  errors  like  this  occurred 
in  various  parts  of  the  country  at  this  time. 

The  neatness  of  the  uniforms,  the  polished  buttons  and  the 
bright  looking  arms  of  the  regular  soldiers  was  often  a  matter 
of  interest  to  the  volunteer  officers.  One  day  while  on  guard 
an  elderly  captain,  who  unquestionably  hailed  from  one  of  the 
New  England  states,  said  to  me,  "Where  be  you  men  from? 
I  see  you  all  got  brand  new  guns !"  I  explained  to  him  that  we 
were  regular  soldiers  and  had  used  these  guns  on  the  frontiers 
for  years.  He  exclaimed,  "Dew  tell !  Our  boys  got  new  guns 
but  they're  all  rusty.  What  do  you  clean  yours  with?" 

In  October  happened  the  unfortunate  engagement  with  the 
Confederates  at  Ball's  Bluff,  some  distance  up  the  Potomac, 
where  Colonel  Baker  was  killed,  and  we  lost  nearly  a  thousand 
men — killed,  wounded  and  prisoners ;  also  by  drowning.  After 
the  battle  corpses  floated  down  the  river,  some  of  them  being 
washed  ashore  at  Georgetown. 

We  preferred  to  do  guard  duty  at  the  ferry  to  Analostan 
Island  at  the  foot  of  High  Street  because  it  was  easy,  as  it  took 
the  rope  ferry  boat  a  good  while  to  make  a  trip  and  the  traffic 
was  small.  This  spot  was  the  landing  place  for  fishing  boats  and 

189 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

small  sloops  which  brought  oysters  and  vegetables  to  the 
Georgetown  market  from  down  the  river.  The  watermelon 
season  was  still  on  and  sloops  came  in  loaded  with  them.  We 
watched  the  boats  for  the  owners  at  night  and  in  return  they 
gave  the  guard  all  the  melons  they  could  eat,  and  they  were 
delicious.  It  was  the  same  later  on  with  oysters;  and  last 
came  the  sweet  potatoes,  the  real  Virginia  or  Maryland  sweet 
potatoes,  which  we  roasted  and  feasted  on. 

One  day  when  I  was  corporal  of  the  guard  at  the  ferry,  the 
sentinel  called  out,  "Turn  out  the  guard  for  the  commanding 
general !"  and  immediately  the  general  replied,  "Never  mind  the 
guard !"  He  did  not  seem  to  care  for  my  little  command  of  six 
men.  General  McClellan  was  in  a  carriage  along  with  his  chief 
of  staff,  General  Randolph  B.  Marcy,  his  father-in-law,  but 
without  any  escort.  Although  I  knew  them  both,  I  went  to 
the  side  of  the  carriage,  saluted  and  said,  "Passes,  gentlemen  ?" 
to  which  the  General,  returning  the  salute,  replied,  "I  am  the 
commanding  general."  I  said,  "Pass  on,  General,"  which 
ended  the  only  conversation  I  had  with  him  during  the  war. 
The  General  had  to  wait  for  about  ten  minutes  before  the 
carriage  could  be  driven  on  the  boat.  During  that  time  I  could 
observe  him  closely,  while  he  conversed  earnestly  with  General 
Marcy. 

A  miserable  looking  tramp  passed  our  little  guard  house  at 
the  ferry  one  day  and  seeing  a  pair  of  old  buckskin  gloves 
belonging  to  me,  which  I  had  left  on  a  bench  outside,  promptly 
appropriated  them.  The  sentinel  saw  him  and  called  me.  He 
ran,  but  I  caught  him,  took  the  gloves  from  him  and  was  about 
to  give  him  a  kick  and  let  him  go,  when  one  of  the  town  con- 
stables came  up  and  insisted  on  arresting  the  man.  Since  the 
town  had  been  policed  by  the  soldiers,  the  few  constables  had 
had  little  to  do  and  had  grown  rusty.  This  one  seemed  glad 
to  have  a  case  and  would  not  let  his  prisoner  go,  although  I 
entreated  him  to  do  so  as  the  old  gloves  had  no  value.  Next 
day  I  received  a  subpoena  to  appear  as  a  witness  at  the  court 
house  at  Four-and-a-half  Street  in  Washington  the  following 
morning,  and  with  the  subpoena  I  was  handed  a  dollar  and  a 

190 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

half,  which  was  a  godsend  to  me,  as  I  had  n't  another  cent  at 
the  time.  I  blessed  that  tramp!  I  was  provided  with  a  pass 
for  all  day,  gave  my  evidence  in  court  and  heard  the  poor  tramp 
sentenced  to  thirty  days  in  the  workhouse;  then  I  started  in 
to  regale  myself  royally  on  the  dollar-fifty.  I  had  an  oyster 
fry  at  Harvey's  on  the  avenue,  and  something  to  drink  and 
smoke.  I  spent  the  afternoon  in  the  streets  and 'I  fear  I  was 
rather  more  extravagant  than  a  man  in  my  company  who 
sometimes  said,  "Give  me  two  cigars  for  five  cents.  I'm  on  a 
spree  and  don't  care  how  I  spend  my  money." 

My  captain  resided  with  his  family  in  a  house  on  Bridge 
Street ;  the  unmarried  officers  boarded  around  town ;  the  mar- 
ried soldiers  had  located  their  wives  and  children  in  cheap 
apartments  where  some  of  them  remained  to  the  end  of  the 
war.  Some  wives  never  saw  their  husbands  again  after  we 
went  into  Virginia.  The  captain  in  his  capacity  of  command- 
ing officer  sometimes  visited  the  guard  late  at  night  and  had  it 
turned  out  for  him  and  put  us  through  the  usual  formalities. 
I  was  always  thankful  that  he  omitted  the  inspection  of  arms, 
for  at  times  I  would  have  hated  to  trust  him  with  the  handling 
of  a  loaded  gun.  He  sent  for  me  occasionally  to  report  to  him 
at  his  house  and  when  I  appeared  he  put  me  through  a  kind 
of  catechism  commencing  with,  "Who  made  you  a  corporal?" 

"The  captain,"  I  replied. 

"Why  did  I  make  you  a  corporal?" 

To  which  my  answer  was,  "Because  I  was  in  the  line  of 
promotion,  I  presume." 

"No!  because  I  then  believed  you  to  be  a  good  and  reliable 
soldier.  I  see  by  the  guard  report  that  you  were  corporal  of 
the  guard  at  the  ferry  on  Tuesday  night  when  a  lot  of  common 
soldiers  were  drinking  in  a  saloon  on  Cherry  Street  and 
wrecked  the  place.  Why  didn't  you  go  there  and  arrest  them  ?" 

"I  could  not  hear  the  disturbance,  it  was  too  far  away; 
besides,  the  regulations  for  the  army  forbid  my  leaving  the 
guard  without  orders." 

"I  am  the  provost-marshal  of  this  town  and  I  make  the 
regulations.  Don't  let  this  happen  again.  I  will  not  allow  any 
more  common  soldiers  to  go  into  saloons  and  will  issue  an 

191 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

order  to  that  effect.  Remember,  I  can  break  you.  Go  back  to 
your  quarters!" 

He  never  issued  that  order — he  couldn't;  neither  did  he 
break  me,  although  he  used  to  send  for  me  if  there  was  any 
scrape  in  town;  no  matter  if  I  didn't  have  the  remotest  con- 
nection with  it,  he  suspected  I  was  concerned  in  it. 

A  tragedy  happened  while  we  were  quartered  in  Forrest 
Hall.  A  soldier  of  Company  A  was  on  post  No.  2  on  the 
Gay  Street  side  of  the  building  one  winter  night  when  Sergeant 
Brennan  of  his  company,  who  was  the  sergeant  of  the  main 
guard  that  night,  went  out  of  the  guard-room  and  passed 
around  the  corner  of  the  building  towards  sentinel  No.  2.  In 
a  few  minutes  a  shot  was  heard,  and  some  of  the  guard  running 
out  found  Sergeant  Brennan  on  the  sidewalk,  dead,  with  a 
bullet  through  his  heart,  while  the  sentinel,  with  his  gun  in  his 
hands,  calmly  stood  there  awaiting  arrest.  What  transpired 
between  them  during  the  few  minutes  they  were  alone  never 
became  known.  The  soldier  admitted  shooting  the  sergeant, 
but  made  no  explanation.  It  was  well  known,  however,  that 
there  was  a  bitter  enmity  between  them  dating  back  to  the 
time  when  they  were  on  the  frontier  service.  The  body  was 
carried  up  into  the  Hall  and  laid  out  on  some  benches  on  the 
second  floor  among  the  sergeant's  sleeping  comrades.  A  screen 
was  erected  around  the  body  next  morning  and  some  nuns 
from  Georgetown  watched  and  prayed  by  it,  until  the  next  day 
when  the  funeral  services  were  held  in  the  Catholic  church. 
The  murderer  was  incarcerated  in  Washington  and  was  speed- 
ily tried  by  a  general  court-martial  which  sentenced  him  to  be 
hanged.  A  few  weeks  after  the  tragedy  the  entire  regular 
brigade  marched  to  a  field  on  the  north  side  where  many  of 
the  finest  houses  are  now  built  and  formed  a  square  about  an 
elevated  gallows  which  had  a  flight  of  steps  leading  up  to  the 
platform.  The  hangman  (a  soldier)  was  there  adjusting  and 
soaping  the  rope.  Presently  the  prisoner  arrived  in  a  closed 
carriage,  accompanied  by  a  priest  and  a  cavalry  guard.  The 
culprit  mounted  the  steps  unassisted,  and  when  he  reached  the 
platform  he  stood  erect,  waved  his  right  hand  and  exclaimed 

192 


TEN   YEARS   IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.   ARMY 

in  a  firm  voice,  "Good-bye,  soldiers!  Good-bye!"  His  limbs 
were  quickly  bound  and  a  black  cap  drawn  over  his  face ;  the 
trap  was  sprung  and  we  saw  the  contortions  of  the  lower  part 
of  his  body.  In  a  few  minutes  his  struggles  ceased  and  the 
soldiers  marched  silently  back  to  their  quarters. 

We  found  the  winter  climate  of  Washington  mild  and 
agreeable,  as  compared  with  our  experience  in  Nebraska  and 
Dakota  Territories.  Our  food  was  fairly  good.  We  drew 
bread  from  the  Government  bakeries;  fresh  beef  was  issued 
to  us  at  the  foot  of  the  unfinished  Washington  Monument, 
where  all  the  beef  cattle  for  the  troops  in  or  about  Washington 
were  slaughtered.  Other  provisions  we  drew  from  the  general 
commissary  depot. 

During  our  stay  of  about  five  months  in  Georgetown  we  had 
become  well  acquainted  with  every  nook  and  corner  of  it  and 
got  along  well  with  such  of  the  citizens  as  were  not  Southern 
sympathizers.  At  some  of  the  houses  to  which  we  had  been 
invited  we  played  games  with  the  girls.  At  one  house  in  par- 
ticular where  a  few  friends  and  I  called  for  a  while  I  flattered 
myself  that  I  was  the  daughter's  favorite  visitor;  but,  alas! 
"fair  and  false  was  she!"  for  she  placed  her  young  affections 
on  a  drummer  of  the  band  whose  more  gaudy  uniform  seemed 
irresistible  to  her. 

About  the  end  of  January,  1862,  my  company  was  ordered 
to  leave  Forrest  Hall  and  occupy  a  vacant  two-story  and  attic 
house  on  Pennsylvania  Avenue  between  Eighteenth  and  Nine- 
teenth Streets,  facing  a  small  triangular  shaped  park.  This 
house  is  still  standing  (1913)  and  is  now  numbered  1806. 
We  lived  there  as  we  did  in  the  K  Street  house.  Our  duties 
were  much  easier  than  in  Georgetown ;  the  only  guard  duty  we 
had  was  one  post  in  front  of  our  own  quarters.  We  picked  up 
a  few  recruits  in  Washington  and  I  had  to  drill  them  sometimes 
in  the  little  park,  to  my  chagrin  and  much  to  the  amusement  of 
the  spectators,  as  one  of  them  named  Davis  was  as  awkward  a 
man  as  I  ever  tried  to  instruct. 

Since  the  battle  of  Bull  Run,  the  preceding  July,  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac  had  been  assiduous  in  drill  and  had  gained 

193 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.  S.  ARMY 

much  in  discipline  under  that  admirable  organizer,  General  Mc- 
Clellan,  all  exrcept  the  volunteer  cavalry  regiments.  Many  of 
the  men  could  not  ride  horses  when  they  were  enlisted.  The 
horses  were  untrained  and  were  as  green  as  their  riders.  In 
a  few  slight  skirmishes  with  the  enemy  on  reconnaissances  the 
horses  ran  away  at  the  first  fire,  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  the 
troopers  to  make  a  stand.  It  was  a  standing  joke  in  the  army 
at  that  time  that  there  was  a  reward  of  five  dollars  for  any 
soldier  who  had  seen  a  dead  cavalryman.  It  takes  a  long  time 
to  drill  cavalrymen  and  horses.  It  was  not  until  after  the 
second  year  of  the  war  that  they  became  really  effective  and 
after  that  they  did  splendid  service. 

The  Northern  papers  were  clamorous  for  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  to  make  a  move  on  the  enemy.  "Why  doesn't  the 
army  move?"  was  the  cry.  In  the  West  there  had  been  some 
success;  General  U.  S.  Grant  had  captured  Fort  Donaldson, 
Tennessee,  together  with  Generals  Buckner  and  Tilghman  and 
thirteen  thousand  prisoners.  President  Lincoln,  impatient  at 
General  McClellan's  delay  and  unwilling  to  agree  to  the  Gen- 
eral's plan  of  a  campaign,  appointed  February  twenty-second 
as  the  day  for  a  general  movement  of  all  the  land  and  naval 
forces ;  but  nothing  was  done.  We  observed  the  day  by  hang- 
ing out  a  flag  and  by  burning  a  lot  of  candles  in  the  front 
windows  of  our  quarters  at  night.  We  were  tired  of  garrison 
duty  and  wanted  to  see  some  field  service.  Up  to  this  time 
the  small  regular  army  had  had  but  little  representation  in  any 
of  the  conflicts  and  no  share  in  what  little  glory  there  had 
been.  All  seemed  eager  for  real  service,  even  the  man  in  my 
company  who  used  to  declare  that  he  "enlisted  to  fight  but 
was  not  quarrelsome." 

We  knew  that  a  campaign  of  some  sort  would  soon  take 
place  and  began  to  prepare  for  it.  All  of  our  fancy  uniforms 
and  articles  of  no  service  in  the  field  were  packed  into  cases, 
turned  over  to  the  quartermaster's  department  and  placed  in 
storage  in  the  then  unfinished  Corcoran  Art  Gallery,  situated 
on  Pennsylvania  Avenue  near  our  quarters,  and  none  of  us 
ever  saw  them  again.  Shelter  tents  were  issued  to  us.  They 

194 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

were  an  imitation  of  the  "tent  d'Abri"  used  in  the  French  army 
and  consisted  of  a  piece  of  thin  canvas  supposed  to  be  rain- 
proof. It  was  about  six  and  a  half  by  five  feet  and  had  buttons 
and  buttonholes  along  the  edges,  so  that  two  or  more  pieces 
could  be  joined  together  and  stretched  across  a  ridge  pole  sup- 
ported on  two  posts,  and  the  sides  fastened  to  tent-pins  driven 
into  the  ground.  This  formed  a  small  A-shaped  tent,  a  "pup- 
tent,"  as  the  soldiers  called  it,  but  was  open  at  the  front  and 
back.  Generally  three  men  got  together  and  used  the  third  piece 
of  canvas  to  cover  one  of  the  open  ends — the  one  to  windward 
The  little  tents  were  so  low  it  was  necessary  to  crawl  into  them 
on  hands  and  knees  and  we  could  barely  retain  a  sitting 
posture.  Tent  and  ridge-poles  of  light  wood,  made  to  telescope 
in  convenient  lengths,  and  small  hardwood  tent-pins  were  also 
issued  to  us.  All  this  had  to  be  strapped  to  our  knapsack  and 
increased  the  load  to  be  carried  on  our  back  very  considerably. 
The  poles  and  pins  we  threw  away  after  a  few  days'  trial  in 
the  field  and  trusted  to  chance  to  pick  up  forked  sticks  and 
ridge-poles  in  the  woods.  For  this  purpose  I  provided  myself 
with  a  small  hatchet,  and  to  even  up  loads  my  bunkie  carried  a 
frying  pan  for  our  use. 

On  March  eighth  Centreville  was  discovered  to  have  been 
evacuated  by  the  Rebels.  Painted  logs  (Quaker  guns)  were 
found  mounted  in  the  enemies'  earthworks.  Manassas  was  also 
found  to  be  evacuated ;  at  last  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was 
forced  to  move.  General  McClellan  was  relieved  from  the 
supreme  command  of  the  United  States  Army  and  appointed 
to  command  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  We  received  orders 
to  cross  the  Potomac  into  Virginia.  The  six  companies,  headed 
by  the  band,  formed  on  Pennsylvania  Avenue  in  the  forenoon 
of  the  tenth  of  March  and  marched  to  the  "Long  Bridge"  by 
way  of  Fourteenth  Street,  after  more  than  seven  months  in 
Washington  and  Georgetown.  The  day  was  clear  but  cold. 
It  was  my  hard  luck  to  be  corporal  of  the  guard  bringing  up 
the  rear  of  the  column  with  a  few  prisoners  and  some  drunks 
who  had  been  unable  to  resist  the  temptation  of  a  final  debauch. 
I  had  some  trouble  to  keep  them  from  frolicking  with  the  negro 

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TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

wenches  who  had  lined  up  on  the  sidewalks  in  large  numbers 
to  hear  the  band  play  and  see  us  marching  off.  The  captain, 
much  to  our  satisfaction,  did  not  accompany  us.  He  managed 
to  get  a  medical  certificate  excusing  him  from  field  service  and 
remained  in  Georgetown  on  easy  duty. 


196 


PART  IX. 

THE  PENINSULA  CAMPAIGN,  1862. 

OUR  real  war  experience  commenced  when  we  passed 
over  the  Long  Bridge  at  Washington  into  the  enemy's 
country — Virginia.  It  is  not  my  intention  to  write  a 
complete  story  of  any  part  of  the  Civil  War,  nor  to  criticize 
the  general  conduct  of  the  war,  but  simply  to  describe  my 
personal  experience  and  my  observations,  together  with  the 
impressions  made  upon  me  and  my  comrades  at  the  time.  A 
soldier  in  the  ranks  sees  but  little  of  a  battle  and,  outside  of 
his  own  regiment  or  brigade,  knows  less  of  events  that  have 
taken  place  or  new  movements  to  be  made  than  a  civilian  can 
learn  from  the  newspapers.  We  often  read  articles  about  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  in  papers  several  days  old  which  con- 
tained information  that  was  news  to  us. 

After  passing  the  bridge  we  marched  along  the  Fairfax 
Court  House  road  for  a  distance  of  about  six  miles,  when  we 
were  ordered  to  halt  and  go  into  camp  beside  the  road  at  the 
edge  of  a  piece  of  woods.  Our  heavily  loaded  knapsacks 
began  to  be  a  burden  on  this  short  march  and  next  morning  we 
threw  away  things  we  thought  we  could  dispense  with.  On  the 
frontiers  we  had  wagons  to  carry  our  tents,  rations  and  knap- 
sacks, which  made  marching  easier,  although  we  marched 
greater  distances  than  a  large  army  could.  All  through  the 
Civil  War  the  soldier  in  the  ranks  furnished  his  own  trans- 
portation. In  this  camp  we  put  up  our  little  shelter  tents  for 
the  first  time,  but  as  I  was  on  camp  guard  and  had  to  relieve 
sentinels  every  two  hours,  I  sat  on  a  log  by  a  fire  all  night  and 
dozed  between  times. 

Next  morning  we  broke  camp  and  counter-marched  to  within 
about  a  mile  of  the  town  of  Alexandria,  where  we  went  into 

197 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

camp  on  some  high  ground,  carefully  putting  up  our  tents 
along  lines  forming  company  streets,  as  we  expected  to  stay 
for  some  time.  My  bunkie  and  I  gathered  some  pine-needle 
brush  in  the  woods  and  spread  it  over  the  floor  of  our  tent,  as 
the  ground  was  frozen  and  damp.  The  nights  were  still  cold. 
We  cooked  our  rations  at  fires  which  we  built  in  the  company 
streets  and  gathered  around  them  evenings  until  tattoo.  Nearly 
every  soldier  soon  had  the  back  of  his  blue  trousers  scorched 
a  deep  brown  above  the  heels  of  his  shoes  from  standing  too 
close  to  the  fire.  There  were  encampments  of  troops  all  around 
us.  The  greater  part  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  in  the 
vicinity  of  Alexandria  awaiting  transportation  to  Fortress 
Monroe,  Virginia.  A  fleet  of  boats  was  soon  gathered  from 
New  York  and  Philadelphia  to  transport  the  army ;  they  were 
of  all  kinds — tug-boats,  towing-barges,  New  York  ferryboats, 
excursion  steamers  and  coast  liners.  Daily  shipments  were 
made,  but  our  corps,  General  Fitzjohn  Porter's  Fifth  Army 
Corps,  was  held  in  camp  until  near  the  last. 

I  was  on  camp  guard  a  few  times  and  remember  particularly 
a  very  distressing  night  at  that  camp.  It  had  rained  all  day, 
soaking  us  to  the  skin;  and  at  night  it  turned  into  snow  and 
sleet.  We  had  no  guard  tent  to  shelter  us  and  were  exposed  to 
the  storm  all  night,  sitting  on  logs  around  a  fire  that  would 
not  burn  and  blinded  us  with  smoke.  In  the  morning  the 
storm  ceased  and  soon  the  sun  came  out  and  warmed  us. 
Fortunately  I  had  a  change  of  dry  clothing  in  my  knapsack  in 
the  tent,  which  I  put  on  as  soon  as  relieved  and  experienced  no 
ill  effects  from  the  exposure.  Although  we  were  experienced 
soldiers,  we  had  much  to  learn,  now  that  we  were  a  part  of  a 
great  army  entering  upon  a  campaign.  One  of  the  first  things 
that  forced  itself  upon  us  was  that  while  on  a  campaign  or  on 
marches  there  could  be  no  company  cooks  and  every  soldier 
had  to  carry  and  cook  his  own  rations.  This  was  necessary 
because  companies  were  constantly  divided.  Some  men  were 
absent  on  picket  or  on  scouting  duty  for  days  at  a  time.  It 
was  only  while  in  a  permanent  camp  or  when  the  army  was 
in  winter  quarters,  as  it  was  called,  that  we  could  receive  full 

198 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

rations  and  have  the  luxury  of  company  cooks  and  fresh  bread 
instead  of  hardtack. 

The  daily  ration  of  hard  bread  was  increased  from  twelve  to 
sixteen  ounces  per  day  and  a  few  other  changes  were  made  in 
the  soldiers'  rations  by  law  and  regulation  in  July,  1861,  to  hold 
good  during  the  war.  We  lived  on  what  we  called  "short 
rations"  when  on  a  campaign  or  a  march,  the  daily  allowance 
being  as  follows :  one  pound  of  hard  bread,  twelve  ounces  of 
salt  pork  or  bacon,  or  twenty  ounces  of  salt  or  fresh  beef ;  one 
and  a  quarter  ounces  of  ground  coffee ;  two  and  a  half  ounces 
of  sugar ;  half  an  ounce  of  salt  and  sometimes  a  piece  of  soap. 
We  generally  drew  three  days'  rations  at  a  time,  which  fairly 
filled  our  haversacks.  Sometimes  we  had  to  carry  rations  for 
five  days  and  were  obliged  to  stow  away  a  part  of  them  in  our 
knapsacks.  There  were  times  when  we  had  to  get  along  with 
less  than  the  above  allowance. 

The  haversack  was  a  canvas  bag,  the  knapsack  was  of  the 
same  material — both  painted  black.  The  haversack  had  a 
canvas  lining  which  could  be  removed  and  washed.  We  made 
small  bags  to  hold  our  coffee,  sugar  and  salt ;  the  pork  or  beef 
we  wrapped  up  in  a  piece  of  paper  or  cloth  and  stowed  away 
in  the  bottom  of  the  haversack,  and  then  filled  it  up  with  the 
hard  bread.  Each  soldier  carried  a  quart  cup  and  a  plate  made 
of  strong  block  tin,  also  a  spoon  and  a  steel  knife  and  fork. 
Those  who  did  not  provide  themselves  with  frying  pans  used 
their  tin  plates  as  a  substitute.  Our  canteens  were  of  strong 
tin,  covered  over  with  thick  felt  cloth,  and  held  three  pints. 

We  soon  learned  to  make  several  palatable  dishes  out  of  our 
limited  marching  rations.  We  would  fry  our  pork  until  it  was 
well  browned,  and  after  dipping  some  of  the  hard  bread  into 
water  for  a  few  minutes  we  fried  that  in  the  hot  pork  grease, 
which  made  it  swell  and  softened  it,  for  it  was  very  hard  bread 
indeed  when  eaten  raw.  At  other  times  we  broke  the  hard 
bread  into  small  pieces  and  soaked  it  in  water  for  an  hour  or 
more  until  it  was  thoroughly  soft  and  then  fried  it  in  pork 
grease.  We  also  had  a  way  of  making  a  stew  in  our  tin  cups, 
to  which  the  soldiers  gave  a  name  that  would  not  look  well  in 

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TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

print.  This  stew  consisted  of  pork  or  beef  cut  into  small  pieces, 
with  broken  hard  bread  boiled  in  water;  and  if  we  were 
fortunate  enough  to  obtain  a  carrot,  a  potato  or  an  onion,  we 
had  a  feast. 

We  had  good  appetites.  On  the  third  day  we  generally 
fasted  to  a  more  or  less  extent,  having  used  up  more  than  the 
just  proportion  of  our  rations  on  the  first  two  days.  If  there 
was  any  man  in  the  company  who  could  not  eat  all  his  rations, 
he  was  much  sought  after  by  those  who  were  hungry.  We 
boiled  our  coffee  in  the  quart  cups.  Sometimes  we  could  buy 
condensed  milk  from  the  sutler  when  not  on  a  march. 

Porter's  Fifth  Army  Corps  received  orders  to  embark  for 
Fortress  Monroe  about  March  twenty-second,  but  it  was  two 
or  three  days  later  that  the  division  of  regulars  broke  camp  and 
marched  to  a  wharf  in  Alexandria,  where  we  embarked  on  an 
old  excursion  steamer.  The  crowded  boat  made  her  way 
slowly  down  the  Potomac  and  when  in  the  afternoon  we  passed 
Mount  Vernon,  where  the  remains  of  General  Washington 
repose,  the  ship's  bell  tolled  and  we  were  ordered  to  remove 
our  caps  as  a  mark  of  respect  for  the  Father  of  his  Country. 

We  found  that  the  soldiers  could  do  no  cooking  on  this  boat ; 
some  of  them  tried  to  make  coffee  by  placing  their  cups  on  the 
hot  steam  pipes,  but  they  could  not  get  it  to  the  boiling  point. 
A  few  fortunate  soldiers  got  the  firemen  of  the  boat  to  boil 
their  coffee  for  them.  I  had  to  be  content  with  washing  down 
my  frugal  meals  with  cold  water.  At  night  we  lay  on  the 
floor  of  the  saloon  and  about  the  decks,  wherever  we  could  find 
room. 

Next  day  we  were  in  Chesapeake  Bay,  making  slow  progress, 
and  arrived  at  Old  Point  Comfort  a  little  before  sunset.  Here 
was  an  interesting  sight — the  harbor  was  crowded  with  all 
sorts  of  boats  which  had  transported  the  Army  of  the  Potomac 
and  its  supplies  from  Alexandria  to  Fortress  Monroe.  There 
were  also  several  men-of-war  and  the  Monitor — the  little 
"Yankee  cheesebox  on  a  raft,"  as  the  Rebels  called  her — 
which  had  defeated  the  redoubtable  Rebel  ram,  the  Merrimac, 
only  a  short  time  before.  We  picked  our  way  carefully  among 

200 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

the  many  vessels  and  were  within  a  half  mile  of  the  dock — 
a  short  distance  north  of  the  present  dock  at  the  Hotel  Cham- 
berlin — when  suddenly  there  was  a  crash  which  threw  us  off 
our  feet  and  caused  an  ominous  creaking  and  straining  of  the 
timbers  in  the  old  boat.  We  had  struck  something,  probably 
a  forgotten  wreck,  and  were  beginning  to  sink  rapidly.  There 
was  great  confusion,  with  shrieking  of  whistles,  blowing  off 
steam  from  the  boilers,  and  a  rush  in  search  of  life  preservers. 
In  a  few  minutes  tug-boats  came  to  our  assistance  and  began 
taking  us  off.  All  were  saved,  but  had  our  boat  been  going  at 
full  speed  when  she  struck,  there  might  have  been  a  heavy 
loss,  even  though  we  had  assistance  close  at  hand.  We  spent 
a  very  uncomfortable  night,  lying  on  the  open  dock  wrapped  in 
our  blankets  and  overcoats.  It  was  cold,  the  strong  wind 
which  was  blowing  made  us  shiver,  and  were  thankful  for  day- 
light and  the  sun's  warm  rays.  Through  someone's  negligence 
our  three  days'  rations,  exhausted  on  the  previous  day,  had  not 
been  renewed  and  on  this  morning  many  were  without  anything 
to  eat ;  I  had  a  hardtack  or  two  and  a  little  sugar ;  these  and  a 
drink  of  water  constituted  my  breakfast.  There  was  much 
grumbling  and  dissatisfaction.  One  soldier  in  my  company 
declared  that  it  was  enough  "to  make  a  dog  strike  his  father." 
Soon  after  sunrise  our  officers,  who  had  spent  a  more  com- 
fortable night  at  the  Hygeia  Hotel  than  we  had  on  the  cold 
dock,  joined  us  and  we  took  up  our  march  to  camp. 

We  passed  the  fort,  crossed  Hampton  Creek  and  passed 
through  the  village  of  Hampton,  which  had  been  nearly 
destroyed  by  the  Rebel  general,  Magruder,  who  had  ordered  it 
to  be  set  on  fire  the  previous  year.  A  few  miles  further  on 
we  came  to  a  flat  plain  near  the  James  river,  where  we  halted 
to  camp.  Many  thousands  of  tents  stretched  away  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach  in  the  direction  of  Newport  News  on  the 
James  river ;  the  entire  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  here. 

It  was  afternoon  before  we  received  any  rations  and  wood 
to  start  fires  with  which  to  cook  them,  for  there  was  no  wood 
to  be  had  in  the  vicinity  and  we  had  to  go  a  long  distance  for 
water.  After  a  great  deal  of  trouble  we  secured  some  sticks 

201 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

with  which  to  set  up  our  shelter  tents;  for  the  officers  a  few 
wall  tents  and  some  A  tents  were  provided. 

It  was  at  this  camp  that  I  first  saw  the  Fifth  New  York 
Volunteer  Infantry,  better  known  as  the  "Duryee  Zouaves." 
They  arrived  from  Baltimore,  where  they  had  been  engaged  in 
constructing  fortifications  on  Federal  Hill  during  the  fall  and 
winter,  and  established  their  camp  in  close  proximity  to  ours, 
which  afforded  us  opportunity  of  much  friendly  intercourse. 
They  were  commanded  by  Lieutenant  Colonel  G.  K.  Warren, 
whom  we  had  known  in  Dakota  Territory  as  a  lieutenant  of 
topographical  engineers,  making  surveys  for  the  Government 
in  1855-1857.  Colonel  Warren  had  brought  this  fine  regiment 
to  a  state  of  discipline,  efficiency  and  drill  that  was  not  equaled 
by  any  other  volunteer  regiment  in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac. 
When  on  drill  or  dress  parade  they  looked  both  splendid  and 
formidable  in  their  picturesque  Zouave  uniforms  and  white 
turbans.  General  George  Sykes,  our  division  commander, 
selected  this  regiment  of  all  others  for  the  third  brigade  of 
the  second  division  of  the  Fifth  Army  Corps.  The  First  Con- 
necticut Heavy  Artillery,  serving  as  infantry,  was  presently 
added  to  this  brigade,  and  later  on  the  Tenth  New  York 
Volunteer  Infantry.  The  "Duryee  Zouaves"  remained  in 
Sykes's  division  until  the  expiration  of  their  term  of  service. 

The  first  and  second  brigades,  amounting  to  upwards  of  four 
thousand  men,  were  made  up  of  regular  soldiers.  The  second, 
to  which  I  belonged,  was  composed  of  the  following:  Second 
United  States  Infantry,  Sixth  United  States  Infantry,  Tenth 
United  States  Infantry,  Eleventh  United  States  Infantry, 
Seventeenth  United  States  Infantry.  The  eleventh  and  seven- 
teenth were  new  regiments  raised  since  the  beginning  of  the 
war;  they  were  what  was  called  three-battalion  regiments, 
twenty-four  companies  but  only  one  battalion  of  each;  eight 
companies  were  ever  present  with  us.  The  old  regiments  were 
ten-company  regiments,  but  none  of  them  had  over  six  com- 
panies present.  The  commander  of  the  brigade  at  this  time 
was  Lieutenant  Colonel  William  Chapman,  an  old  veteran  of 
the  Mexican  War,  who  remained  with  us  but  a  short  time, 
when  he  was  retired  on  account  of  old  age  and  disability. 

202 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

At  this  time — the  beginning  of  McClellan's  Peninsula  Cam- 
paign— my  regiment  had  but  three  or  four  officers  present  who 
had  served  on  the  frontiers  with  us  and  were  West  Point  grad- 
uates. All  of  the  first  and  second  lieutenants,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Lieutenant  Jordan,  who  commanded  my  company,  and 
a  few  who  were  appointed  from  the  ranks,  were  civilian 
appointees.  Some  had  served  in  state  militia  and  had  some 
knowledge  of  tactics  and  discipline;  some  turned  out  to  be 
good  officers,  but  others  could  have  been  dispensed  with,  and 
that  with  no  loss  to  the  service. 

I  took  a  trip  along  the  shore  of  the  river  one  day  towards 
Newport  News  and  had  a  close  view  of  the  masts  of  the  Con- 
gress and  the  Cumberland  sticking  up  out  of  the  water.  These 
were  the  two  United  States  frigates  that  were  sunk  by  the 
Merrimac  in  the  memorable  conflict  of  March  eighth,  1862. 

The  Army  of  the  Potomac  commenced  its  advance  on  York- 
town  on  April  fourth,  but  it  was  nearly  a  week  later  before  we 
left  our  camp  near  Hampton.  General  McClellan,  while  in 
command  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  made  Sykes's  division 
his  reserve — a  body  of  troops  to  be  relied  upon  "at  a  critical 
moment,"  as  he  expressed  it,  in  his  report  of  the  Peninsular 
Campaign;  that  is  why,  during  his  time  as  commander,  we 
seldom  took  the  initiative  in  any  forward  movements,  but 
were  more  often  used  to  cover  a  retreat,  as  at  the  first  Bull 
Run,  when  the  enemy  pursued  us. 

When  we  left  our  camp  about  the  tenth  of  April  we  found 
the  roads  in  very  bad  condition  from  recent  rains  and  badly  cut 
up  by  that  part  of  the  army  which  had  marched  ahead  of  us. 
We  passed  through  a  place  called  Little  Bethel  and  through 
Big  Bethel,  where  the  "Duryee  Zouaves"  had  an  encounter 
with  a  body  of  the  enemy  on  June  tenth,  1861.  The  breast- 
works marking  the  Rebel's  position  were  still  there.  A  few 
miles  beyond,  about  half  way  between  our  former  camp  and 
Yorktown,  we  halted  and  went  into  camp  in  a  field  at  the  edge 
of  some  woods,  in  which  there  were  a  large  number  of  huts  or 
shacks,  which  had  been  occupied  by  some  Rebel  regiment  dur- 
ing the  winter.  We  found  a  number  of  pigs  running  around  in 

203 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

the  woods,  some  of  which  we  captured  and  had  fresh  pork  for 
supper. 

During  the  night  a  rainstorm  came  on  which  lasted  almost 
without  intermission  for  more  than  forty-eight  hours.  My 
bunkie  and  I  had  taken  the  precaution  to  put  a  thick  layer  of 
pine  branches  on  the  ground  and  had  dug  a  ditch  around  our 
tent;  still,  next  morning  the  water  soaked  in,  though  we  dug 
the  ditch  deeper,  and  for  two  days  and  nights  we  had  to  sit  or 
lie  on  beds  that  were  water-soaked.  To  add  to  our  misery,  the 
shelter  tents  were  far  from  being  waterproof ;  such  a  rain  as 
this  could  not  be  kept  out.  As  we  lay  in  our  tents  we  watched 
the  globules  of  water  oozing  through  the  thin  canvas;  and  to 
keep  them  from  dripping  in  our  faces,  we  would  put  up  our 
fingers  to  touch  the  drop  and  guide  it  along  the  sloping  side 
of  the  tent.  The  rain  was  so  fierce  that  half  the  time  we  could 
not  boil  any  coffee,  as  no  fires  could  be  kept  up.  The  field  in 
which  we  camped  was  soon  turned  into  a  quagmire  through 
which  we  waded  ankle-deep  when  we  ventured  outside  the 
tents.  The  men  named  this  place  "Camp  Misery,"  and  it 
remained  as  such  in  our  memories  for  many  a  day. 

On  the  morning  of  the  third  day  the  sun  came  out,  but  the 
roads  were  in  such  a  horrible  condition  that  we  could  not  move. 
It  was  not  until  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day  that  we  resumed 
our  march  and  arrived  at  Yorktown  in  the  afternoon.  At 
Yorktown  our  camp  was  established  a  short  distance  from  the 
front  of  General  McClellan's  headquarters  and  was  known  as 
"Camp  Winfield  Scott."  There  was  a  fringe  of  woods  which 
screened  us  from  the  enemy  in  the  fortifications  of  Yorktown 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  or  more  in  front  of  us.  When  the 
first  of  the  troops  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  arrived  in 
front  of  Yorktown  they  found  their  further  advance  checked 
by  fortifications  mounting  heavy  guns,  with  smaller  works  and 
formidable,  well  protected  breastworks  extending  from  the 
York  river  on  the  north  across  the  entire  peninsula  to  the  James 
river  on  the  south,  where  the  Warwick  river  enters  it.  For  a 
few  days  reconnaissances,  which  brought  on  some  minor 
engagements,  were  made  to  find  some  weak  spots  in  the  Rebel 

204 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

defenses.  Then  General  McClellan  decided  that  a  siege  would 
be  necessary  to  capture  the  enemy's  works.  Presently  the 
Union  Army  of  about  eighty  thousand  men  was  busy  making 
roads,  building  works  for  batteries  of  siege  guns  and  trenches 
for  the  infantry  . 

The  first  work  my  regiment  did  was  to  assist  in  building 
corduroy  roads  between  the  camps  and  Shipping  Point  on  the 
York  river,  where  the  army  supply  depots  were.  These  roads 
had  to  be  substantially  built  for  the  transportation  of  heavy 
siege  guns  and  all  kinds  of  army  supplies.  This  work  was 
severe  and  frequent  cold  rains  added  to  our  misery ;  but  it  had 
to  be  done  quickly,  regardless  of  weather  conditions.  Early 
in  the  morning  a  detail  of  about  one-half  the  regiment,  furn- 
ished with  axes,  picks  and  spades,  marched  to  a  part  of  the 
Shipping  Point  road  and  commenced  work.  We  cut  down 
trees,  trimmed  them  and  dragged  the  logs  to  their  places ;  we 
filled  in  low  spots  and  dug  ditches  to  drain  the  water  from 
swampy  sections,  often  standing  in  mud  and  water  to  do  it.  At 
noon  we  were  allowed  an  hour's  rest  to  make  coffee  and  eat  our 
rations.  About  sundown  we  quit  work  and  returned  to  camp, 
very  tired  and  glad  that  we  could  rest  all  of  the  next  day, 
while  the  other  half  of  the  regiment  was  at  work. 

The  sick  list  increased  while  this  work  went  on,  but  it  was 
soon  finished  and  then  we  furnished  detachments  to  work  on 
trenches  which  were  a  part  of  the  siege  operations  of  the 
investment  of  Yorktown,  consisting  of  ditches  and  earth  breast- 
works running  in  long  zigzag  lines,  constantly  approaching  the 
enemy's  works.  New  lines  were  always  begun  in  the  night, 
but  strong  works  for  mounting  siege  guns  and  batteries  were 
hurried  along  night  and  day,  in  spite  of  the  enemy's  frequent 
shelling,  which  was  answered  by  our  gun-boats  in  the  York 
river;  and  generally  they  were  soon  silenced  by  them.  After 
sundown  the  soldiers  who  had  been  detailed  for  work  on  the 
trenches  during  the  night  formed  ranks  and  marched  to  a 
place  where  picks  and  shovels  were  furnished  us;  then  we 
neared  the  place  where  the  work  was  to  be  done  and  con- 
cealed ourselves  in  the  woods,  which  were  abundant  in  the 

205 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

vicinity  of  Yorktown,  and  awaited  very  quietly  until  darkness 
had  set  in.  We  were  then  led  out  into  the  open  fields  in  front 
of  the  Rebel  works,  where  we  found  pegs  driven  and  lines  put 
up  by  the  engineers,  indicating  the  direction  in  which  the  new 
line  of  trenches  was  to  be  dug.  We  were  cautioned  to  make 
as  little  noise  as  possible  with  our  tools  and  no  talking  was 
allowed,  for  the  Rebel  pickets  might  be  near.  The  men  began 
digging  a  wide  trench,  throwing  the  dirt  in  front  of  them  to 
form  a  breastwork;  and  they  worked  very  hard  indeed  until 
they  had  dug  a  hole  deep  enough  to  lie  down  in,  then  they  took 
it  easier. 

As  a  non-commissioned  officer  I  did  not  have  to  do  any  of 
the  digging;  I  superintended  my  section  and  kept  them  at 
work,  but  the  nights  were  still  cold  and  raw  and  I  often  relieved 
a  tired  private  for  a  while  to  warm  up ;  besides  I  was  as  much 
interested  as  any  of  them  to  make  a  hole  in  the  ground  deep 
enough  to  protect  me  when  the  enemy  fired  at  us. 

All  through  the  night,  at  almost  regular  intervals  of  about 
fifteen  minutes,  a  single  gun  in  the  forts  at  Yorktown  fired  a 
shell  in  our  direction,  which  passed  over  us  and  exploded  or 
buried  itself  in  the  ground  somewhere  behind  us.  On  the  half- 
dozen  occasions  when  I  was  on  such  a  detail  I  can  recall  only 
one  shell  bursting  over  us  which  severely  wounded  two  men 
of  a  regiment  working  next  to  ours.  When  the  gun  was  fired 
at  Yorktown  a  mile  or  more  away,  there  was  a  flash  in  the  sky 
and  a  sergeant  on  watch  called  out  "Lie  down !"  when  we  im- 
mediately dropped  flat  on  the  ground  or  into  the  trench.  About 
the  time  we  heard  the  report  of  the  gun,  the  shell  was  passing 
over  us.  The  interval  of  time  between  seeing  the  flash  of  the 
gun  and  hearing  the  report  was  just  about  sufficient  for  us  to 
drop  for  protection.  Occasionally  the  Union  gunboats  in  the 
river  fired  a  few  rounds  in  the  direction  of  the  Rebel  gun  which 
was  annoying  us  and  had  the  effect  of  silencing  it  for  an  hour  or 
two.  At  the  first  streak  of  daybreak  we  ceased  digging  and 
returned  to  camp,  depositing  our  entrenching  tools  where  we 
had  received  them.  We  were  then  excused  from  duty  and 
rested  all  day;  alternate  nights  the  same  detail  went  out  to 

206 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

work  on  the  trenches  again.  Similar  work  was  done  by  the 
troops  all  along  our  front  line. 

We  had  a  fairly  good  camping  ground,  which  could  be 
drained,  but  there  was  much  rain  at  this  season  and  our  thin 
canvas  shelter  tents  leaked  badly,  until  we  thought  to  give 
them  a  coating  of  pork-grease  or  melted  tallow,  which  im- 
proved them  for  a  time  at  the  expense  of  their  looks,  for  all 
the  dust  and  dirt  flying  about  clung  to  them.  In  this  respect 
the  volunteer  regiments  were  better  provided  for  than  we; 
many  of  them  had  rubber  ponchos — not  furnished  by  the 
Government,  but  by  the  states  from  which  they  hailed.  The 
ponchos  could  be  used  as  a  shelter  tent  and  were  waterproof ; 
they  could  also  be  worn  as  a  protection  in  rainy  weather, 
while  on  the  march  or  on  picket,  for  they  were  slit  in  the 
center  for  the  head  to  pass  through.  They  had,  however,  the 
disadvantage  of  being  much  too  heavy  and  excessively  hot 
when  used  as  tents  in  warm  weather. 

During  our  stay  at  Camp  Winfield  Scott,  for  about  a  month, 
we  had  no  drum  or  bugle  calls  nor  were  any  bands  allowed 
to  play,  and  after  sunset  all  fires  were  extinguished.  This  pre- 
caution was  taken  to  prevent  the  enemy  from  ascertaining  the 
exact  location  of  our  camps,  many  of  them  being  within  easy 
distance  of  their  long-range  guns,  only  a  thin  strip  of  woods 
masked  the  camps  in  most  places. 

A  large  captive  balloon  near  the  army  headquarters  was  in 
charge  of  the  signal  corps,  a  new  branch  of  the  service  added 
since  the  beginning  of  the  war.  Some  of  the  engineer  officers 
made  ascensions  in  this  balloon  for  hundreds  of  feet  and  must 
have  obtained  a  comprehensive  view  of  the  enemy's  camps  and 
defenses.  Shells  were  fired  at  this  balloon  at  times;  we  saw 
them  burst  in  the  air,  but  they  never  came  close  enough  to 
endanger  the  occupants.  There  was  also  a  telegraph  corps  at 
headquarters,  which  was  an  innovation  in  warfare.  Insulated 
wire  was  used,  wound  on  large  reels  mounted  on  trucks  drawn 
by  horses.  The  wires  could  be  paid  out  quickly  and  were 
secured  to  trees  or  fences,  or  laid  on  the  ground,  and  communi- 
cations established  between  headquarters  and  commanders  of 
the  corps.  207 


TEN    YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS   U.S.   ARMY 

Not  a  day  passed  without  some  long-range  artillery  firing 
from  both  sides ;  sometimes  a  shell  passed  over  our  camp  and 
over  General  McClellan's  headquarters  camp  behind  us.  Picket 
firing  also  went  on,  and  there  were  some  casualties  daily.  It 
was  at  this  camp  that  I  saw  Rebel  soldiers  for  the  first  time; 
some  prisoners,  taken  in  a  skirmish,  were  brought  to  head- 
quarters. Only  a  few  among  them  wore  a  complete  uniform 
of  gray;  the  others  had  a  mixture  of  military  and  civilian 
clothing  and  wore  slouch  hats;  they  were  taken  charge  of  by 
the  provost-guard. 

An  estuary  of  the  York  river  extended  close  up  to  our  camp. 
There  were  many  oyster  beds  in  it,  which  were  soon  exhausted 
by  the  soldiers.  We  washed  our  clothing  in  this  water,  which 
was  brackish;  our  drinking  water  we  obtained  from  springs 
and  from  wells  which  we  dug.  Encamped  alongside  of  our 
brigade  was  the  regiment  known  as  Colonel  Burdan's  United 
States  Sharp  Shooters,  an  independent  organization  belonging 
to  no  particular  state.  This  regiment  was  much  used  as 
skirmishers  and  on  picket.  Many  of  the  men  had  their  own 
private  arms,  rifles  with  telescopes,  hunting  rifles  and  other 
superior  arms;  some  had  powder  horns  and  cast  their  own 
bullets  rather  than  use  any  fixed  ammunition.  A  detail  from 
this  regiment  was  sent  out  and  remained  in  the  rifle-pits  or 
were  concealed  in  the  branches  of  trees  from  daybreak  till  dark 
for  the  purpose  of  taking  shots  at  the  Rebel  gunners  in  the 
fortifications  of  Yorktown. 

About  the  first  day  of  May  Battery  Number  One  on  our 
right,  the  largest  of  our  batteries,  was  completed  and  began 
firing  occasional  shots  from  its  one-hundred  and  two-hundred 
pounder  siege-guns  at  the  Rebel  fortifications  at  Yorktown  and 
Gloucester  Point  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  York  river.  The 
noise  caused  by  the  firing  of  these  great  guns  and  the  explosion 
of  the  shells  was  deafening.  Siege  mortars  were  also  fired. 
At  night  we  could  plainly  follow  the  course  of  the  mortar 
shells  by  their  burning  and  sputtering  fuses  as  they  curved  high 
up  in  the  air  in  their  flight  towards  the  enemy's  works.  It 
was  expected  that  in  a  few  days,  as  soon  as  all  of  our  batteries 

208 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

were  ready,  a  general  bombardment  all  along  the  line  would 
take  the  place  of  desultory  firing.  For  several  days  the  enemy 
replied  but  feebly  to  our  rambling  fire,  but  on  Saturday  evening 
they  commenced  a  furious  fire  all  along  their  line  and  kept  it 
up  until  long  after  midnight. 

At  daybreak  on  Sunday  morning,  May  fourth,  it  was  dis- 
covered that  the  Rebels  had  evacuated  Yorktown  and  were  in 
full  retreat  up  the  peninsula  toward  Richmond.  There  was 
great  cheering  in  all  the  camps  as  they  received  the  news,  the 
bands,  silent  for  a  month,  played  patriotic  airs  like  mad,  and 
as  though  they  would  never  have  another  chance  to  play.  We 
seemed  to  be  celebrating  a  great  victory  and  forgot  our 
tremendous  and  now  useless  labor  during  the  siege  operations. 
When  General  McClellan  and  some  of  his  staff  appeared  among 
the  camps  on  their  way  to  Yorktown,  we  threw  our  caps  into 
the  air  and  cheered  him  to  the  echo,  for  he  was  our  "Little 
Mac,"  our  "Napoleon,"  our  "Little  Corporal."  The  soldiers 
were  very  enthusiastic  and  cheered  him  along  the  line  of  march, 
whenever  he  appeared;  they  had  the  greatest  confidence  in 
him  and  would  have  followed  him  anywhere.  No  future  com- 
mander of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  inspired  the  rank  and  file 
with  the  same  affection ;  they  idolized  him.  But  we  were  inex- 
perienced in  war  and  too  easily  enthused  at  this  time ;  we  ex- 
pected our  commander  to  lead  us  to  certain  victory.  Of  the 
future  commanders  I  think  that  General  Joseph  Hooker  was 
next  to  McClellan  in  the  affections  of  his  soldiers,  but  to  a 
lesser  degree. 

Immediate  pursuit  of  the  enemy  followed  by  a  cavalry 
brigade  which  met  with  some  loss  from  percussion  shells 
planted  on  the  road  leading  from  Yorktown  to  Williamsburg, 
before  they  overtook  the  enemy's  rear-guard  and  had  a  skirm- 
ish with  them.  The  cavalry  was  followed  within  a  few  hours 
by  the  infantry  of  the  fourth  and  a  part  of  the  third  army 
corps,  which  pushed  on  vigorously  until  near  night,  when  they 
encountered  a  large  force  of  the  enemy  strongly  posted  in  a 
work  called  Fort  Magruder  and  about  a  dozen  redoubts  and 
many  rifle-pits  located  about  a  mile  or  more  east  of  Williams- 
burg. 

209 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Next  day  a  fierce  battle  was  fought  all  day ;  in  our  camps  at 
Yorktown,  where  we  were  held  in  readiness  to  march  at  a 
moment's  notice,  we  could  plainly  hear  the  heavy  firing.  That 
night  the  enemy  abandoned  their  position  and  the  road  to  the 
Chickahominy  river  was  open.  All  the  troops  now  began  a 
forward  movement,  but  we  were  among  the  last  to  leave,  two 
or  three  days  after  the  battle  of  Williamsburg.  Transporta- 
tion was  limited,  only  one  wagon  being  allowed  our  small 
regiment  to  carry  the  officers'  tents,  their  baggage,  mess-kits, 
etc.  Nothing  was  carried  for  the  soldiers,  except  the  sergeant- 
major's  and  first  sergeant's  small  desks  or  chests  in  which 
their  books  and  papers  were  kept.  By  this  time  many  of  the 
officers  had  negro  servants — soldiers  not  being  allowed  for  that 
service  while  in  the  field ;  these  they  had  picked  up  from  among 
the  many  hundreds  of  General  Butler's  "contrabands"  at  Fort- 
ress Monroe.  Many  had  broken-down  mules,  or  old  horses, 
on  which  they  packed  shelter  tents,  blankets,  provisions  and  a 
few  cooking  utensils — a  very  convenient  arrangement  to  resort 
to  on  a  prolonged  march,  when  the  officers  wanted  some  coffee, 
or  when  the  baggage  wagon  failed  to  reach  camp.  These 
servants  were  mostly  ignorant  plantation  niggers,  but  they 
seemed  to  fill  the  bill.  They  walked  and  led  their  animals; 
and  in  some  way  they  managed  to  find  or  steal  forage  enough 
to  keep  them  alive.  The  unfortunate  ones  who  did  not  have 
animals  to  carry  their  burdens  were  obliged  to  make  pack- 
horses  of  themselves.  These  camp  followers,  or  "dog  robbers," 
as  we  called  them,  kept  up  close  with  the  command  to  which 
they  belonged,  except  when  they  heard  any  firing  going  on  in 
front,  in  which  case  they  did  not  show  up  until  all  was  quiet 
again. 

Our  first  day's  march  was  to  Williamsburg,  about  twelve 
miles,  where  we  encamped  for  the  night  near  Fort  Magruder 
on  a  part  of  the  battlefield  of  three  days  previous.  Not  much 
of  the  struggle  remained  to  be  seen,  the  dead  had  been  buried, 
the  dead  horses  burned,  but  the  woods  and  trees  and  the  earth- 
works showed  the  effects  of  the  rifle  and  cannon  firing  which 
must  have  been  most  severe.  The  road  from  our  camps  led 

210 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

through  Yorktown ;  we  passed  by  some  of  the  Rebel  fortifica- 
tions which  heretofore  had  been  seen  only  from  a  distance. 
We  noticed  a  number  of  small  sticks  with  a  piece  of  rag 
attached  to  them.  These  indicated  places  where  percussion 
shells  were  supposed  to  have  been  buried  by  the  Rebels.  A 
squad  of  Rebel  prisoners  under  guard  were  forced  to  dig  them 
up.  This  was  very  dangerous  work,  as  to  step  on  the  cap  of 
the  shell  or  to  strike  it  with  a  tool  was  liable  to  cause  a  disas- 
trous explosion. 

The  weather  was  very  warm;  the  road  was  mostly  through 
pine  woods  with  an  occasional  clearing ;  the  woods,  set  on  fire 
by  the  retreating  Rebels,  were  still  burning  in  places  and  the 
smoke  at  times  was  suffocating.  We  found  the  road  strewn 
with  blankets,  overcoats  and  other  clothing  and  articles  dis- 
carded by  our  troops  who  had  marched  ahead  of  us.  Owing 
to  the  warm  weather,  the  heat  of  the  burning  woods  and  the 
rough  state  of  the  roads,  we  felt  the  weight  of  our  knapsacks 
on  our  backs  more  than  ever  before ;  and  we  also  began  to  shed 
clothing.  We  reasoned  that  there  was  a  long  summer  before 
us,  during  which  we  would  need  but  little  clothing  in  this 
climate;  and  if  we  were  still  alive  in  the  fall  we  could  draw 
more  blankets  and  overcoats.  My  bunkie  and  I  lightened  our 
loads  by  discarding  a  blanket  and  an  overcoat ;  the  other  blanket 
we  cut  in  two,  and  cutting  the  cape  off  the  remaining  overcoat, 
we  cast  it  away,  together  with  half  of  the  blanket  and  some 
other  articles,  all  of  which  lightened  our  burden  considerably. 

All  through  the  summer  when  on  a  march,  we  did  not  bother 
with  putting  up  a  shelter  tent  unless  it  rained.  We  spread  one 
of  the  sections  of  the  tent  on  the  ground  and  lay  on  the  half- 
blanket,  covering  ourselves  with  the  blanket  and  with  the  other 
section  of  the  tent  if  we  expected  a  heavy  dew.  Sometimes 
we  were  caught  in  a  shower  during  the  night,  but  that  did  not 
disturb  us  much,  as  we  were  then  too  tired  and  sleepy  to  get 
up  and  erect  a  tent.  We  kept  the  overcoat  for  a  while  to  be 
made  use  of  when  either  of  us  was  on  guard  or  picket,  but  we 
soon  threw  that  away,  also.  The  country  people  who  lived 
along  the  route  of  the  army  must  have  gathered  a  rich  harvest 

211 


TEN   YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS   U.S.  ARMY 

in  clothing  and  shoes  at  this  time.  There  were  a  few  men  in 
every  company  who  could  not  make  up  their  minds  to  part 
with  any  of  their  property;  some  even  picked  up  articles  that 
others  had  thrown  away  and  added  them  to  their  burden, 
although  they  staggered  under  the  load. 

The  second  day's  march  was  a  short  one.  We  went  only 
about  six  or  seven  miles  beyond  Williamsburg  and  encamped. 
In  going  through  the  town  we  saw  but  few  citizens,  except 
colored  people;  the  stores  were  nearly  all  closed,  the  private 
houses  had  their  blinds  closed  and  were  seemingly  deserted. 
The  ladies  were  evidently  hiding  themselves.  The  place  was 
full  of  wounded  soldiers  from  both  armies ;  large  hospital  tents 
flying  the  yellow  flag  had  been  erected  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
town.  We  passed  the  venerable  buildings  of  William  and  Mary 
College,  which,  I  think,  were  used  as  a  hospital  at  that  time. 

Next  morning,  soon  after  reveille,  I  was  handed  an  order  for 
the  admission  of  half-a-dozen  sick  soldiers  from  my  brigade 
(whom  the  surgeon  considered  unable  to  stand  a  campaign) 
to  a  hospital  at  Williamsburg.  I  was  directed  to  take  charge 
of  them,  to  march  them  there  and  rejoin  my  company  as 
speedily  as  possible  and  as  best  I  could.  I  secured  permission 
to  leave  my  knapsack  in  the  regimental  baggage  wagon,  keep- 
ing only  a  blanket  which  I  made  into  a  roll  and  carried  over 
my  shoulder.  I  started  early,  but  it  took  my  sick  squad  about 
four  hours  to  travel  the  distance  of  six  miles  back  to  Williams- 
burg. I  found  the  hospital  tent,  left  my  charges  and  was  given 
a  receipt  for  them. 

The  day  was  still  young.  I  was  puzzled  whether  to  stay 
in  the  town  and  await  the  chance  to  return  under  the  pro- 
tection of  some  detachment  of  soldiers,  or  to  go  on  alone.  I 
decided  on  the  latter  course,  for  I  felt  fresh  and  vigorous  and 
was  a  good  marcher ;  I  reasoned  that  I  would  be  able  to  over- 
take my  command  before  night,  if  they  had  not  made  too  long 
a  march  that  day ;  and,  at  the  worst,  I  might  find  a  wagon-train 
or  some  soldiers  encamped  along  the  road,  among  whom  I 
might  spend  the  night.  I  stayed  in  town  only  long  enough  to 
get  something  to  eat  and  some  coffee  at  the  hospital,  and  then 

212 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

started  off  at  a  brisk  pace  which  I  kept  up  with  only  a  few 
short  rests  until  evening,  when  I  began  to  look  anxiously  for 
signs  of  a  large  camp  ahead.  None  was  to  be  seen,  and  no 
one  seemed  to  be  traveling  towards  me,  from  whom  I  could 
learn  how  far  it  was  to  the  next  camp.  The  road  was  a  very 
lonely  one ;  much  of  it  was  through  woods,  and  there  were  but 
few  houses  and  cabins.  The  trail  left  by  the  army  could  be 
easily  followed  in  the  daytime,  but  after  dark  it  would  be 
more  difficult  when  arriving  at  a  cross  or  branch  road  to  decide 
which  way  to  go. 

During  the  afternoon  I  was  never  any  very  great  length  of 
time  out  of  sight  of  a  wagon-train  or  some  cavalry  detachment, 
and  I  also  met  some  stragglers,  who  had  been  foraging.  They 
asked  me  to  stay  with  them  but  I  declined.  Towards  evening 
I  saw  no  one  and  felt  very  lonely  and  uneasy.  Shortly  after 
sundown  a  small  cavalry  squad  in  charge  of  an  officer  over- 
took me.  I  was  halted  and  the  officer  demanded  to  know  what 
I  was  doing  alone  on  the  road.  I  showed  him  my  receipt  and 
explained  that  I  was  not  a  straggler.  He  advised  me  to  hide 
in  the  woods  in  a  hurry  and  to  stay  there  until  some  detach- 
ment came  along  which  I  could  join,  or  I  would  be  shot  by 
guerrillas.  I  had  not  heard  guerrillas  mentioned  before  in  camp, 
but  from  the  earnest  way  in  which  this  officer  spoke,  I  judged 
they  were  to  be  dreaded. 

I  quickly  retraced  my  steps  to  the  nearest  woods,  about  half 
a  mile  behind  me,  and  took  a  careful  look  up  and  down  the 
road  before  entering,  but  saw  nothing  to  alarm  me.  Within 
hearing  distance  of  the  road,  I  spread  my  blanket  under  a  tree, 
ate  a  portion  of  my  rations  and  took  a  drink  of  water  from  my 
canteen.  It  was  growing  dark  and  I  was  afraid  to  light  my 
pipe  and  have  a  smoke,  so  I  lay  down  on  my  blanket  to  rest, 
my  loaded  rifle  beside  me.  I  felt  very  tired,  as  I  must  have 
marched  more  than  twenty-five  miles  since  early  morning, 
according  to  my  calculation,  and  although  I  tried  to  keep 
awake  and  listen  for  any  noise  there  might  be  on  the  road, 
sleep  overcame  me  and  I  did  not  wake  up  until  it  was  broad 
daylight. 

213 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

After  a  careful  survey  I  resumed  my  march  and  soon 
passed  a  house  a  few  hundred  yards  off  the  road,  in  which 
no  one  seemed  to  be  stirring  yet.  A  few  miles  further  on,  I 
saw  a  cavalry  picket  post  and,  noting  the  blue  uniform  and 
yellow  facings,  I  knew  that  I  was  safe.  Here  I  learned  that 
the  camp  was  but  little  more  than  a  mile  ahead  and  soon  heard 
the  joyful  notes  of  a  bugle  call.  My  regiment  was  waiting  to 
take  its  place  in  line  for  the  day's  march  and  I  reported  to  the 
commanding  officer,  who  complimented  me  on  my  activity  in 
making  two  days'  marches  in  one,  and  ordered  me  as  a  reward 
to  be  excused  from  guard  and  picket  duties  for  a  month. 

A  short  time  later  I  knew  better  than  to  take  the  foolish 
chance  I  had  in  making  that  march  alone.  In  less  than  a  week 
General  Sykes's  servant  was  shot  dead  by  guerrillas  and  some 
teamsters  were  killed  by  them  not  far  from  camp.  During  the 
war  many  stragglers  were  killed  by  guerrillas,  being  reported 
missing  or  perhaps  as  deserters.  In  my  own  company,  two  men 
who  were  supposed  to  have  fallen  asleep  by  the  roadside  dur- 
ing a  rest  on  a  night  march  were  never  heard  from. 

On  this  day  it  was  the  turn  of  the  Fifth  Army  Corps  to  be  in 
the  rear  on  the  line  of  march,  and  my  brigade  was  the  last  in 
the  corps,  which  made  it  quite  late  in  the  morning  before  we 
started  on  the  road.  It  was  the  custom,  when  it  could  be  done 
and  when  a  large  part  of  the  army  was  marching  on  the  same 
road,  for  the  corps  in  advance  to-day  to  be  in  the  rear  to- 
morrow. This  rule  applied  also  to  divisions,  brigades,  regi- 
ments and  companies  of  regiments,  the  leading  company  to-day 
being  the  rear  company  to-morrow. 

We  marched  by  fours,  and  if  there  were  fifty  thousand  men 
or  more  in  line  they  extended  for  many  miles,  and  it  some- 
times happened  that  the  troops  in  the  advance  went  into  camp 
before  those  in  the  rear  started  on  their  march.  Reveille,  how- 
ever, was  sounded  at  the  same  time  in  all  the  camps,  irrespect- 
ive of  their  place  in  line.  The  supply  trains  with  their  guards 
often  followed  the  troops  on  the  same  road  and  were  very 
late  getting  into  camp.  Rations  were  then  issued  at  night  to 
the  waiting,  hungry  soldiers.  When  the  roads  were  very  bad 

214 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

and  conditions  made  it  feasible,  an  army  corps  remained  at 
rest  in  camp  for  a  day  avoiding  the  overcrowding  of  the  road. 
Marching  with  a  large  body  of  troops  is  very  tedious  and 
very  annoying,  when  you  are  far  to  the  rear  of  the  line  and  the 
troops  in  front  empty  the  wells  and  springs  along  the  road  and 
roil  the  rivulets  and  ponds  to  the  extent  of  making  water  unfit 
to  drink.  When  a  halt  occurred  we  did  not  know  whether  it 
was  for  a  rest  or  only  for  a  moment ;  a  halt  of  a  few  minutes 
at  the  head  of  the  line  miles  away  multiplied  itself  many  times 
before  it  reached  the  rear.  If  a  piece  of  road  had  to  be  re- 
paired, a  stream  forded  or  a  bridge  strengthened  or  repaired 
for  the  safe  passage  of  artillery  and  cavalry,  we  were  delayed 
for  hours.  Those  in  the  rear  knew  nothing  of  the  cause  and 
wondered  why  we  did  not  go  on,  expecting  every  moment  to 
hear  the  bugle  sound  the  call  "forward."  When  we  halted 
we  stood  still  for  a  few  minutes  waiting  to  go  on  again,  and  if 
there  was  no  indication  of  it  among  the  regiments  immediately 
in  front  of  us,  we  broke  ranks  without  orders  and  unslung  our 
knapsacks  and  sat  on  them  or  lay  on  the  ground  by  the  roadside 
if  it  was  dry,  the  officers  doing  the  same — for  all  company 
officers  had  to  march  on  foot.  If  the  halt  continued  for  a  while 
the  men  soon  began  to  straggle  off  in  search  of  water  and 
wood;  if  it  was  evening,  soon  many  small  fires  were  burning 
along  the  road  and  many  were  making  coffee  in  their  tin  cups ; 
and  perhaps  before  the  coffee  boiled  the  bugle  would  sound 
the  command  to  "fall  in."  We  could  not  afford  to  throw  away 
the  coffee,  partly  made,  but  carried  the  cups  in  our  hands  to 
the  next  halting  place  and  built  another  fire.  We  had  become 
wise  and  put  swinging  handles  on  our  cups,  if  we  could  find 
any  wire  for  that  purpose,  to  carry  them  more  easily.  A  short 
delay  at  the  head  of  the  column  became  a  long  one  in  the 
rear,  if  the  men  broke  ranks,  for  it  required  a  little  time  to 
sling  knapsacks  and  to  take  your  place  in  line — very  much 
like  a  tie-up  on  a  long  line  of  street-cars,  when  it  seems  a  long 
time  after  the  first  one  has  started  again  before  the  last  one 
moves.  On  night  marches  the  afore-mentioned  difficulties 
were,  greater,  for  tired  out  men  fell  asleep  by  the  roadside  and 

215 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

did  not  always  hear  the  command  "forward."  If  we  missed 
them  when  forming  ranks,  we  delayed  a  little  and  searched  for 
them;  if  we  did  not,  they  had  a  chance  of  being  picked  up 
the  rear  guard,  or  ran  the  risk  of  being  captured  by  guerrillas. 

We  passed  through  New  Kent  Court  House  and  reached 
Cumberland  on  the  Pamunkey  river  long  after  dark.  Sykes' 
division  encamped  on  the  heights  overlooking  the  valley  of  the 
river,  and  there  we  saw  a  sight  the  grandeur  of  which  can 
never  be  effaced  from  the  memory  of  those  who  witnessed  it. 
Below  us  on  a  great  plain  the  entire  Army  of  the  Potomac 
was  encamped,  reunited  for  the  first  time  since  leaving  York- 
town.  Thousands  upon  thousands  of  camp  fires  were  seen  as 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach  in  every  direction.  The  sight  was 
magnificent.  We  rested  at  Cumberland  for  a  day  and  the 
army  was  reviewed  by  Secretary  of  State  William  H.  Seward. 

Our  next  march  was  to  the  White  House,  at  the  head  of 
navigation  on  the  Pamunkey.  Here  the  river  was  crossed  by 
a  bridge  of  the  Richmond  and  York  River  Railroad.  The 
tortuous  river  was  crowded  with  vessels,  all  loaded  with  sup- 
plies for  the  army,  for  the  White  House  landing  was  to  be 
our  base  of  supplies  while  operating  against  Richmond,  and 
the  railroad  partly  destroyed  by  the  Rebels  was  to  be  rebuilt 
to  convey  the  supplies  to  the  Chickahominy  river.  The  White 
House  was  a  large  plantation,  formerly  the  property  of  the 
wife  of  George  Washington  and  at  that  time  owned  by  the 
Lee  family.  General  McClellan  ordered  safeguards  to  protect 
this  estate  from  vandalism,  but  about  a  month  later  the  fine 
mansion  was  destroyed  by  fire  along  with  our  supply  depot, 
when  the  Union  Army  retreated  to  the  James  river.  Our 
next  camp  was  at  Tunstall's  Station,  and  two  more  short 
marches  brought  us  to  Gaines's  Mill,  north  of  the  Chicka- 
hominy and  about  seven  miles  from  Richmond. 

All  the  way  up  the  peninsula  the  country  was  deserted; 
about  the  plantations  and  farms  no  young  men  were  to  be 
seen,  they  had  all  joined  the  Rebel  Army.  Few  negroes  were 
visible ;  all  but  trusty  house  servants  had  been  sent  within  the 
Rebel  lines  to  prevent  them  from  running  away  from  their 

216 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

masters.  Scarcely  a  horse  or  any  other  domestic  animal  was  to 
be  seen  about  the  farms;  they  were  either  secreted  or  had 
been  sent  away. 

During  the  first  eighteen  months  of  the  war,  orders  against 
foraging  or  destroying  any  private  property  in  the  enemy's 
country  were  strictly  enforced;  in  our  division  we  were  not 
even  allowed  to  take  fence  rails  for  firewood,  safeguards  being 
placed  at  many  of  the  more  important  plantations  for  their 
protection.  After  the  invasion  of  Maryland  by  the  Rebels  in 
September,  1862,  and  the  discovery  that  many  of  the  houses 
along  the  route  of  the  army  harbored  guerrillas  who  murdered 
our  stragglers,  the  orders  were  no  longer  strictly  enforced  and 
but  few  safeguards  were  furnished.  I  believe  it  was  twelve 
days  or  more  from  the  evacuation  of  Yorktown  before  our 
advance  troops  reached  the  Chickahominy  river,  a  distance  of 
something  less  than  fifty  miles.  The  Northern  papers  criticized 
General  McClellan  very  severely  for  his  slow  pursuit  of  the 
enemy;  but  there  were  few  roads  that  this  large  army  with 
its  immense  baggage  and  supply  trains  could  travel;  owing 
to  constant  and  unprecedented  spring  rains  they  were  in  a 
horrible  condition  and  had  to  be  repaired  in  many  places  before 
the  artillery  and  wagon  trains  could  pass,  and  besides  the 
bridges  had  to  be  rebuilt.  The  battle  fought  at  Williamsburg 
caused  a  loss  of  two  days  also  in  our  advance  on  Richmond. 

The  great  stretches  of  pine  woods  on  the  peninsula  made 
us  familiar  with  a  camp-pest  we  had  not  encountered  before — 
the  woodtick,  a  small  bug  which  buried  its  head  in  the  most 
tender  parts  of  the  skin  of  one's  body,  causing  intense  itching, 
swellings  and  sores.  In  the  morning,  while  on  the  march, 
when  the  sun  was  shining,  and  we  were  in  good  spirits,  some 
regiment  would  start  up  a  song.  I  particularly  remember 
that  my  regiment  marched  directly  behind  the  "Duryee 
Zouaves"  one  morning  when  one  of  their  fine  singers  started 
"The  Mocking  Bird,"  and  presently  the  entire  regiment,  twice 
as  large  as  ours,  took  up  the  chorus.  It  was  beautiful,  and  it 
has  ever  since  remained  one  of  my  favorite  sings. 

Gaines's  Mill,  where  our  camp  was  located,  was  a  part  of 

217 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

a  large  plantation  owned  by  Dr.  Gaines,  a  bitter  Rebel  who 
resided  on  the  property  in  a  large  house  that  was  protected  by 
a  safeguard.  My  brigade  was  encamped  along  the  edge  of 
the  mill-pond,  a  body  of  stagnant  water  which  received  all  the 
drainage  of  the  camp  and  which  was  our  only  supply  for  cook- 
ing and  drinking.  No  precautions  of  any  kind  were  taken  to 
prevent  contamination  of  the  pond;  the  soldiers  bathed  and 
washed  their  clothing  in  it.  We  dug  some  deep  holes  along 
the  shore  and  allowed  the  water  to  seep  into  them,  hoping 
in  that  way  to  filter  it,  but  without  perceptible  results,  for  our 
sick  list  increased  and  we  had  some  fatal  cases  of  typhoid 
fever. 

The  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  presently  separated  into  two 
parts ;  only  the  Fifth  Army  Corps  and  one  additional  division 
remained  on  the  north  side,  or  left  bank,  of  the  Chickahominy, 
all  the  other  troops  being  on  the  right  bank  of  the  river  and 
nearer  Richmond.  They  formed  the  left  wing  of  the  army 
between  the  Chickahominy  and  the  James  rivers;  while  we 
formed  the  right  wing,  virtually  cut  off  and  liable  to  be  out- 
flanked by  the  enemy,  for  the  Chickahominy  was  bordered 
by  large  forest  trees  and  low,  marshy  bottoms  which  a  single 
heavy  rainstorm  would  overflow;  all  bridges  had  been  de- 
stroyed and  had  to  be  rebuilt  and  a  number  of  new  ones  con- 
structed. 

General  McDowell  with  the  First  Army  Corps  and  other 
troops,  to  the  number  of  about  forty  thousand  men  in  all, 
formed  an  independent  command  at  Fredericksburg  at  this 
time,  only  a  few  days'  march  away  from  General  Porter's 
Fifth  Army  Corps.  General  McClellan  had  most  earnestly 
requested  the  authorities  at  Washington  to  allow  General  Mc- 
Dowell to  form  a  junction  with  him  to  strengthen  the  right 
wing  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  but  General  McDowell  did 
not  receive  an  order  to  join  until  it  was  too  late,  and  we  had 
to  pay  a  fearful  price  for  the  delinquency. 

At  this  time  there  were  no  less  than  six  independent  com- 
mands in  various  parts  of  Virginia,  and  even  the  soldiers  in 
the  ranks  could  understand  that  the  war  in  that  state  was  being 

218 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

conducted  from  Washington;  no  important  operations  could 
be  undertaken  without  the  approval  of  the  President,  Secre- 
tary of  War  Stanton,  or  the  Commander-in-Chief,  Halleck. 
It  was  not  until  General  Grant's  time  in  1864  that  the  com- 
mander of  this  army  was  given  a  free  hand. 

After  we  had  been  a  few  days  at  this  camp  it  was  dis- 
covered that  two  brigades  of  the  enemy,  estimated  at  twelve 
thousand  strong,  were  at  Hanover  Court  House,  between 
McDowell's  army  and  our  own  and  were  threatening  our 
communications  with  the  White  House,  our  base  of  supplies. 
A  division  of  the  Fifth  Corps,  together  with  Warren's  brigade 
and  some  cavalry  and  artillery,  marched  at  daylight  next 
morning  and  encountered  the  enemy.  Next  day  there  was  a 
spirited  engagement  in  which  the  Rebels  lost  about  a  thousand, 
killed,  wounded  and  prisoners,  and  were  obliged  to  retreat  to 
Richmond,  while  the  Union  loss  was  less  than  four  hundred. 
The  two  regular  brigades  marched  to  the  field  a  day  later  as 
a  support,  but  we  were  not  called  into  action.  The  "Duryee 
Zouaves"  took  part  in  the  engagement,  sustaining  only  a  trifling 
loss.  The  following  day  the  Virginia  Central  Railroad  with 
its  bridges  was  destroyed  by  our  troops  as  far  as  Ashland 
and  we  returned  to  our  camp  at  Gaines's  Mill. 

We  assisted  in  building  approaches  across  the  Chickahominy 
swamps  to  the  new  bridges  erected  by  the  engineers  and  some- 
times we  worked  in  mud  and  water  all  day.  Occasionally  the 
enemy  fired  some  shells  at  us  without  much  damage  and  were 
quickly  silenced  by  some  of  our  batteries  posted  in  a  com- 
manding position  to  protect  the  bridge. 

The  Rebels  had  one  very  long  range  gun  which  they  some- 
times fired  from  the  other  side  of  the  Chickahominy  in  the 
direction  of  our  camp.  We  could  not  hear  the  report  of  the 
gun  but  heard  the  shell  pass  over  us  and  explode  far  beyond. 
This  gun  was  supposed  to  be  of  English  manufacture — the  best 
type  of  rifled  cannon  made  at  that  time. 

On  one  of  these  working  parties  we  found  in  a  field  a 
tobacco  barn  in  which  there  was  a  goodly  quantity  of  dried 
leaf-tobacco,  from  which  we  abstracted  as  much  as  the  small 

219 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

party  in  my  charge  were  able  to  conceal  and  carry  away  with- 
out being  discovered.  Next  day  in  camp  we  made  cigars  of 
the  stogie  shape  and  enjoyed  smoking  them. 

On  the  thirty-first  of  May  occurred  the  very  severe  battle  of 
Fair  Oaks  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Chickahominy,  in  which 
the  Fifth  Army  Corps  took  no  part,  but  was  kept  in  readiness 
to  cross  the  river,  if  that  could  have  been  accomplished.  The 
recent  heavy  rainstorms  had  caused  such  a  flood  that  the 
bridges  had  been  carried  away  and  the  unfinished  approaches 
destroyed.  The  enemy  knew  this  and  no  doubt  counted  on  the 
fact  that  our  army  was  separated  by  an  impassable  river  and 
could  not  be  united  at  that  time.  We  heard  the  constant  roar 
of  artillery  and  infantry  firing  from  noon  until  dark.  It 
recommenced  at  daylight  next  morning  and  lasted  for  several 
hours.  We  learned  later  that  our  troops  were  driven  back 
on  the  first  day,  but  regained  their  position  the  following  morn- 
ing and  drove  the  enemy  two  miles  further  in  flight  towards 
Richmond,  only  five  miles  away.  It  was  a  victory  for  the 
Union  Army,  but  could  not  be  followed  up;  the  condition  of 
the  roads  was  so  bad  that  artillery  could  not  follow.  The 
troops  went  back  to  their  former  lines  and  greatly  strengthened 
them.  The  combined  losses  of  both  armies  in  this  battle  were 
upwards  of  twelve  thousand,  killed  and  wounded. 

When  the  month  had  expired,  during  which  I  had  been 
excused  from  guard  and  picket,  I  had  to  resume  those  duties 
again.  The  guard  duty  was  easy  enough  as  we  only  main- 
tained a  camp  guard ;  but  going  on  picket  was  a  very  hard  task 
which  happened  once  a  week  or  oftener,  at  this  camp.  Our 
entire  company  would  march  out  of  camp  near  evening,  leaving 
our  tents  standing  but  taking  our  knapsacks  with  us.  We 
would  then  proceed  for  a  few  miles  in  whatever  direction  we 
had  been  ordered  to  go,  until  we  arrived  at  the  picket  reserve 
whom  we  were  to  relieve.  There  we  were  divided  into  relieves 
for  day  and  night  duties  and  received  our  orders  and  special 
instructions  from  the  officer  in  command.  When  darkness  came 
on  we  marched  out  to  the  picket  line  in  small  detachments, 
were  challenged  by  the  sentinels  and  relieved  them  consecu- 

220 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

tively,  being  informed  by  the  soldier  relieved  of  any  suspicious 
circumstances  or  points  to  be  especially  watched.  Then  began 
our  lonely  vigil  through  the  night  until  relieved  at  daybreak, 
for  when  near  the  enemy  we  had  to  remain  on  post  all  night, 
or  from  dawn  till  dark,  as  relief  detachments  were  frequently 
fired  on,  even  though  the  opposing  picket  lines  did  not  fire  at 
each  other  by  a  sort  of  mutual  understanding  during  the  day- 
time. 

Picket  posts  were  generally  within  sight  or  hailing  distance 
of  each  other ;  some  had  the  protection  of  trees  or  bushes  or 
rising  ground,  while  others  were  out  in  the  open  fields  without 
any  protection  or  concealment.  Although  I  was  a  corporal,  I 
had  to  take  my  place  on  the  picket  line  with  my  squad  when 
conditions  were  such  that  the  pickets  could  not  be  relieved  at 
regular  hours  in  front  of  the  enemy.  While  the  daylight  tours 
were  much  longer  at  this  season  of  the  year,  I  found  the 
night  tours  a  greater  strain  on  me  and  more  exhausting.  There 
was  a  continuous  strain  on  the  eye  and  ear,  watching  for  the 
movement  of  dark  objects  or  listening  for  noises ;  a  bird  or  a 
small  animal  moving  in  the  bushes  might  sound  like  the  stealthy 
approach  of  a  person ;  while  to  fire  a  shot  or  to  give  a  false 
alarm  without  a  good  cause  meant  punishment.  We  kept  our 
rifles  at  half-cock,  but  when  hearing  a  suspicious  noise  I  would 
stand  still  and  bring  mine  to  a  full-cock,  waiting  until  all  was 
quiet  again.  It  was  very  hard  sometimes  to  fight  off  sleep. 
When  I  felt  a  drowsy  feeling  stealing  over  me,  I  resorted  to 
all  kinds  of  expedients  to  keep  awake,  even  to  rubbing  tobacco 
into  my  eyes  to  make  them  smart. 

I  put  in  one  particularly  distressing  day  at  one  of  the  new 
bridges  which  we  were  completing  across  the  Chickahominy. 
At  daybreak  I  was  sent  from  the  main  picket  guard  at  the 
Rebel  side  of  the  bridge  to  post  a  line  of  sentinels  about  two 
hundred  yards  ahead  of  the  bridge,  to  watch  and  give  the 
signal  should  the  enemy  approach  to  interfere  with  the  working 
party  on  the  bridge.  We  had  to  wade  through  an  overflow  of 
the  river  for  a  long  distance  up  to  our  knees  and  some  of  the 
sentinels  had  to  stand  in  the  water  all  day  behind  trees  as 

221 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

they  could  not  be  relieved  before  dark.  I  took  for  my  post  the 
farther  end  of  the  line  behind  a  tree,  where  I  did  not  have  to 
stand  in  the  water.  When  it  was  fully  daylight  I  noticed  a 
large  tree  out  in  an  open  field  about  a  hundred  yards  in  front 
of  me  and  soon  made  out  that  there  were  two  Rebel  pickets 
watching  me  from  behind  that  tree.  Sometimes  a  gun  was 
poked  out  and  pointed  in  my  direction  on  one  side  or  the  other 
of  the  tree,  which  caused  me  to  do  the  same;  but  as  they  did 
not  fire,  I  was  only  too  glad  to  keep  quiet  myself.  During  the 
forenoon  a  Rebel  battery  fired  over  our  heads  at  the  men 
working  on  the  bridge.  This  drew  a  concentrated  fire  from 
some  of  our  batteries  which  soon  forced  the  enemy  to  desist. 
A  heavy  rain  came  on  before  noon  and  lasted  all  day,  soaking 
us  to  the  skin.  I  watched  my  two  neighbors,  but  nothing  of 
an  exciting  nature  happened  on  this  miserable,  wet  day.  When 
I  felt  hungry  T  ate  some  boiled  bacon  and  munched  a  few 
crackers.  The  day  seemed  interminably  long.  Just  as  soon 
as  it  was  dark  enough  I  left  my  post  for  the  main  picket  guard 
at  the  bridge,  picking  up  the  sentinels  as  I  went  along,  for  at 
this  time  the  guard  retired  to  the  north  side  of  the  bridge 
over  night. 

After  the  battle  of  Fair  Oaks,  offensive  operations  seemed 
to  be  suspended  for  a  time  on  both  sides.  Incessant  rains  for  a 
week  or  more  had  put  the  country  into  such  condition  that  an 
advance  movement  could  not  be  attempted ;  only  artillery  duels, 
small  skirmishes  and  some  picket  firing  took  place.  But  about 
the  middle  of  June  there  was  some  excitement  in  our  camps 
caused  by  a  report  that  a  large  force  of  Rebels  were  in  the 
rear  of  the  right  wing,  threatening  the  destruction  of  our  base 
of  supplies  at  the  White  House.  This  proved  to  be  the  much 
vaunted  Confederate  General  Stuart's  raid.  General  Stuart, 
with  a  cavalry  force  of  about  twelve  hundred  and  a  section 
of  artillery,  made  a  swift  and  complete  circuit  of  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac.  His  progress  was  so  rapid  that  he  met  with 
but  little  opposition ;  there  was  no  considerable  cavalry  force 
at  hand  and  the  infantry  sent  out  in  a  hurry  could  not  pursue 
him.  He  was  unable  to  inflict  any  damage,  except  to  tear  up 

222 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

a  small  section  of  the  railroad  track  near  the  White  House, 
cut  some  telegraph  wires,  kill  a  few  cavalry-men  and  some 
teamsters  and  burn  a  dozen  army  wagons.  The  most  important 
result  of  this  raid  for  the  enemy  was  that  it  disclosed  to  them 
the  weakness,  location  and  difficult  connection  of  the  right  wing 
of  our  army,  with  the  main  body  on  the  south  side  of  the 
Chickahominy, — a  condition  of  which  they  took  advantage 
presently,  to  our  discomfiture.  Things  went  on  quietly  for  a 
little  while  after  Stuart's  raid,  until  on  the  twenty-sixth  of 
June,  1862,  the  enemy  attacked  our  right  wing  with  a  superior 
force  at  Mechanicsville,  which  was  the  first  of  the  "seven 
days  of  battle"  and  retreat  of  McClellan's  army  in  front  of 
Richmond. 


223 


PART  X. 

THE  SEVEN  DAYS'  RETREAT. 
1862. 

ON  the  morning  of  the  twenty-sixth  of  June,  1862, 
everything  was  quiet  in  our  camps ;  only  the  fire  of 
an  occasional  gun  was  heard  in  the  front  of  the  main 
part  of  our  army,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Chicahominy. 
We  were  enduring  a  very  hot  period  of  weather  and  sought 
relief  from  the  fierce  rays  of  the  sun  under  our  little  shelter 
tents  which  we  opened  on  all  sides  for  more  air.  Men  who  were 
not  on  duty  smoked,  played  cards,  chatted  or  discussed  the 
conduct  of  the  war  and  explained  how  it  should  be  managed; 
they  damned  the  cabinet  and  the  politicians  in  Washington, 
who  really  managed  the  war  and  interfered  often  disas- 
trously with  the  commanding  generals  in  the  field.  They 
expressed  indignation  against  the  Copperhead  (Rebel  sym- 
pathizing) papers  in  the  North  and  wondered  why  they 
were  not  suppressed.  They  made  rough  estimates  of  the  enor- 
mous cost  of  the  war  which  drew  forth  a  remark  from  one  of 
the  party,  that  he  thought  many  millions  could  be  saved  if 
the  Government  advertised  for  bids  to  put  down  the  rebel- 
lion and  awarded  the  job  to  some  Napoleonic  contractor. 

About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  we  were  suddenly 
startled  by  heavy  firing  in  the  direction  of  our  right  wing  at 
Beaver  Dam  Creek  near  Mechanicsville,  about  three  miles 
from  our  camp,  where  the  third  division  of  the  Fifth  Army 
Corps  under  General  McCall  was  posted  in  a  strong  position. 
Presently  the  firing  increased  to  heavy  volleys,  mingled*  with 
the  thunder  of  artillery,  and  we  realized  that  the  long  ex- 
pected attack  on  our  right  wing  had  begun.  The  drummers 
beat  the  long  roll  and  in  a  moment  all  was  activity  in  camp. 
Tents  were  struck,  knapsacks  were  packed,  rations  were  is- 

225 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

sued  and  cartridge  boxes  replenished;  the  wagons  were 
packed  and  all  ready  for  a  movement ;  we  only  awaited  or- 
ders to  march  to  the  support  of  the  third  division.  Then 
came  a  lull  in  the  firing  for  an  hour  or  more,  only  to  be  re- 
newed about  sundown  with  increased  fury  when  Sykes's  di- 
vision was  ordered  forward.  We  took  the  road  towards 
Mechanicsville  and  marched  in  quick  time  to  within  half  a 
mile  or  so  of  the  battle  line,  when  we  were  halted  for  a  while 
and  then  turned  off  the  road  into  a  plowed  field  on  the  right, 
where  we  were  to  bivouac  for  the  night.  It  was  getting  dark 
but  considerable  firing  was  still  going  on  and  it  was  after 
nine  o'clock  before  it  ceased  entirely.  We  stacked  arms  and 
sat  on  our  knapsacks  on  the  ground  waiting. 

From  orderlies  and  wounded  men  passing  to  the  rear,  we 
learned  that  the  enemy  had  crossed  and  were  still  crossing 
the  Chickahominy  by  the  upper  bridges ;  and  had  made  fierce 
attacks  on  the  strong  position  of  the  third  division  on  Beaver 
Dam  Creek  where  they  had  been  repulsed  with  great  loss, 
while  our  loss  was  small;  but  that  by  morning  the  enemy 
would  be  in  such  overwhelming  numbers  that  the  position 
would  be  untenable.  This  information  made  it  seem  sure 
to  us  that  there  would  be  another  battle  on  the  morrow  and 
that  we  would  take  part  in  it ;  and  for  the  first  time  we  ex- 
perienced the  peculiar  feeling  and  mental  condition  of  the 
soldier  on  the  eve  of  battle,  a  condition  that  has  been  de- 
scribed in  prose  and  poetry,  as  the  "night  before  the  battle." 
Heretofore  our  brigade  had  only  been  under  artillery  and 
picket  firing,  in  which  there  had  been  but  few  casualties,  but 
now  we  were  to  face  more  serious  encounters  with  the  enemy. 

We  all  felt  grave.  Each  man  seemed  to  reflect.  I  heard 
none  boast  as  to  what  they  would  do  to-morrow.  Intimate 
friends  made  known  their  wishes  to  each  other,  in  case  either 
of  them  should  not  survive.  We  spread  our  blankets  on  the 
plowed  field.  It  was  a  beautiful  moonlight  night.  I  lay 
awake  a  long  time  looking  at  the  starry  heavens,  thinking  of 
my  mother,  who  was  my  only  relative.  I  believe  that  to  a 
young  soldier  the  anticipation  and  certainty  of  a  battle  for 

226 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

many  hours  before  it  occurs  is  one  of  the  most  trying  parts 
of  it.  I  suppose  that  I  felt  just  like  my  comrades.  I  prayed  and 
hoped  that  I  might  be  spared,  or,  if  I  was  to  fall,  that  I  might 
be  killed  rather  than  mutilated.  At  last  I  fell  asleep  and 
slept  soundly  until  awakened  at  daylight  next  morning. 

The  events  of  the  next  few  days  made  a  stronger  impres- 
sion on  my  youthful  memory  than  any  other  occurrence 
throughout  the  war,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  at  this  writing, 
after  a  period  of  more  than  fifty  years,  I  remember  and  can 
describe  my  feelings  and  actions,  step  by  step,  as  though  it 
had  all  happened  but  a  week  ago. 

After  a  hasty  breakfast  without  coffee,  we  stood  to  arms 
and  waited.  Some  troops  were  marching  on  the  road  to  the 
rear  and  we  learned  that  General  McCall's  division  was  be- 
ing quietly  withdrawn  from  their  defenses.  Only  some 
rambling  shots  could  be  heard.  After  a  while  we  marched 
out  into  the  road  and  in  the  direction  of  Cold  Harbor,  which 
was  simply  a  traven  at  the  intersection  of  two  roads.  On  our 
way  we  passed  our  old  camp  and  the  mill  and  noticed  that 
all  our  wagons  had  departed  during  the  night  and  that 
quantities  of  provisions  which  they  could  not  carry  had  been 
set  on  fire  and  were  still  burning. 

We  were  halted  several  times  and  remained  in  line  of 
battle  for  an  hour  or  more  before  we  went  on  again ;  some- 
times we  countermarched.  The  forenoon  was  well  spent 
when  we  passed  Cold  Harbor  and  took  the  road  leading  to 
Turkey  Hill  and  Woodbury's  Bridge.  When  we  reached 
the  vicinity  of  the  Adams  house,  where  General  Porter  es- 
tablished his  headquarters,  we  halted  again  and  were  or- 
dered to  pile  our  knapsacks  in  a  field  at  the  edge  of  the  road 
where  a  small  guard  was  left  in  charge  of  them,  while  we 
went  on  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  further  and  took  up  a  posi- 
tion on  some  high  ground  in  a  field  on  the  road  leading  to 
New  Cold  Harbor  where  we  found  Warren's  brigade  and 
other  troops  who  had  preceded  us. 

It  was  past  noon  when  we  arrived  here  and  sat  or  lay 
down  on  the  grass  by  the  roadside  under  a  broiling  hot 

227 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.  S.  ARMY 

sun  and  ate  our  dinner  of  boiled  bacon  and  hardtack.  I  re- 
member distinctly  that  it  was  bacon,  for  when  I  took  my 
piece  out  of  my  haversack  and  unwrapped  it,  I  found  it  had 
melted  nearly  half  away  from  the  great  heat  since  early  morn- 
ing. We  lay  around  and  smoked  our  pipes  trying  to  find  a 
little  shade  from  some  low  bushes  that  grew  along  the  road, 
while  we  listened  to  an  occasional  cannon  shot  which 
seemed  to  be  a  long  way  off. 

The  position  of  my  regiment  was  near  the  highest  part  of 
the  road  which  at  this  point  was  about  two  feet  below  the 
general  surface  of  the  ground,  thus  forming  a  low  breast- 
work. In  our  front  were  open  fields  bordered  by  woods 
three  hundred  yards  or  more  away.  Some  distance  to  our 
left  the  fields  were  broken  by  a  small  stream  in  a  ravine 
fringed  with  bushes  and  some  trees.  This  stream  crossed 
the  road  we  were  on  about  three  hundred  yards  to  our  left 
and  at  a  lower  level.  Beyond  the  stream  the  fields  rose 
again  to  the  edge  of  the  woods.  In  our  rear  there  was  a 
gentle  upward  slope  which  reached  a  height  of  about  a  dozen 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  road  and  was  within  sight  of  the 
Watt  house  surrounded  by  fields.  On  this  commanding  but 
exposed  position  a  regular  battery  soon  appeared,  unlimbered 
their  guns  and  prepared  for  action,  the  cannoneers  filling 
their  sponge  buckets  with  water,  while  others  tore  down  the 
rail  fence  in  front  of  the  guns  on  the  high  side  of  the  road. 

From  our  position  I  had  a  good  view  of  the  open  fields 
and  the  locality  made  such  an  impression  on  my  memory,  that 
I  had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  it  many  years  afterward 
when  I  revisited  the  scene.  The  road  to  the  right  and  left 
of  us  was  filled  with  troops  of  Sykes's  division.  I  noticed 
that  Warren's  brigade,  which  I  recognized  by  the  Zouave 
uniforms  of  the  Fifth  New  York,  was  posted  in  some  de- 
pressed ground  in  front  of  the  road  in  advance  and  at  some 
distance  to  our  left. 

I  think  it  was  some  time  after  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
that  picket  firing  became  more  frequent  and  kept  on  getting 
closer.  We  lined  up  against  the  rail  fence  watching  the 

228 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

fields  in  our  front  anxiously.  Presently  I  noticed  a  com- 
pany of  the  "Duryee  Zouaves"  leave  their  regiment,  deploy 
as  skirmishers,  and  enter  the  woods  opposite  them;  and  in 
a  little  while  we  heard  the  crack  of  their  rifles.  Then  we 
realized  that  the  enemy  was  driving  in  our  pickets  and  pre- 
paring to  attack  us. 

Two  pieces  of  woods  formed  almost  a  right  angle  about 
five  hundred  yards  from  our  position  and  in  the  corner  there 
was  a  wide  gap  through  which  I  could  see  the  country  for 
a  mile  or  more  beyond.  I  noticed  a  great  cloud  of  dust 
which  seemed  to  be  approaching,  and  when  it  neared  the 
gap  I  could  make  out  that  there  were  horses,  but  was  not 
sure  whether  it  was  cavalry  or  artillery  from  the  dust  they 
raised.  My  doubts  about  this  were  dispelled  in  a  few  min- 
utes when  I  saw  a  sudden  puff  of  smoke  and  heard  the 
familiar  sound  of  a  shell  passing  over  our  heads.  We  heard  the 
command  to  lie  down  and  obeyed  it  promptly,  throwing 
ourselves  face  down  in  the  thick  dust  of  the  road.  The  shots 
now  came  in  such  quick  succession  that  I  judged  a  full  bat- 
tery of  six  guns  was  firing  at  our  battery,  stationed  directly 
in  the  rear  of  my  regiment  only  a  few  yards  away,  which 
lost  no  time  in  replying  and  whose  guns  roared  with  deafen- 
ing effect  close  over  our  heads  as  we  lay  in  the  road.  Amid 
all  this  noise  and  the  bursting  of  the  enemy's  shells  among 
and  behind  the  battery,  we  could  sometimes  hear  the  groans 
of  a  wounded  battery  horse. 

As  I  explained  before,  we  had  some  protection  from  this 
fire,  inasmuch  as  the  road  was  sunk  about  two  feet,  and  only 
one  of  the  many  shells  fired  burst  directly  over  our  heads, 
killing  two  and  wounding  three  men  of  Company  G.,  next  to 
my  company  on  the  left.  While  this  firing  was  going  on,  I 
think  each  man  tried  to  make  himself  as  thin  as  possible — I 
know  that  I  did.  Each  time  I  heard  the  scream  of  a  shell 
coming  our  way,  I  hugged  the  ground  so  close  that  I  broke 
the  crystal  and  hands  of  an  open-faced  watch  which  I  car- 
ried in  my  pocket,  and  I  felt  a  great  sense  of  relief  when  I 
heard  the  explosion  of  the  shell  behind  me.  I  ardently 

229 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

wished  to  be  in  some  other  place  or  that  the  firing  would 
cease. 

I  do  not  know  just  how  long  this  artillery  duel  lasted — to 
me  it  seemed  an  age — but  it  was  probably  less  than  an  hour 
before  there  was  a  lull  in  the  firing.  We  arose,  and  I  looked 
at  the  two  men  who  had  been  killed  close  by  and  saw  that 
one  had  had  his  head  blown  clean  off,  leaving  only  a  stump 
of  the  neck;  while  the  other  had  a  large  hole  in  the  side  of 
his  head.  The  sight  was  horrible ;  they  lay  in  a  great  pool 
of  blood.  The  three  wounded  men  had  been  removed.  I 
took  a  look  at  the  battery  in  our  rear  and  judged  from  what 
I  could  see  that  they  had  not  suffered  as  much  as  I  had  ex- 
pected. 

The  battle  had  now  begun  in  earnest  at  several  points 
along  our  line;  we  heard  the  heavy  volleys  of  the  infantry 
and  the  thunder  of  many  guns.  I  stood  at  the  fence  and, 
amid  much  smoke,  saw  that  Warren's  brigade  had  become 
engaged  with  the  enemy  who  were  at  the  edge  of  the  woods. 
Soon  I  noticed  a  large  body  of  Rebels  come  out  of  the 
woods,  apparently  in  our  direction,  when  the  command  to 
lie  down  was  again  given  and  this  time  a  warning  from  the 
officer  commanding  the  battery  that  he  was  about  to  fire  can- 
ister at  the  approaching  enemy.  Canister  shot  is  a  round  tin  can 
made  to  fit  the  bore  of  the  gun.  It  is  filled  with  bullets. 
When  fired,  the  tin  is  blown  to  pieces  and  the  bullets  have 
a  tendency  to  scatter.  A  few  dozen  rounds  of  canister  from 
our  battery  drove  the  enemy  back  into  the  woods  leaving 
their  dead  and  wounded  out  in  the  field.  While  the  canister 
firing  went  on  a  little  incident  occurred  which  under  other 
conditions  might  have  been  humorous.  A  man  in  my  com- 
pany was  hit  by  something  in  a  very  soft  part  of  his  body, 
covered  by  the  seat  of  his  pants,  and  let  out  a  yell  that  he 
was  wounded.  When  the  firing  ceased  and  an  examination 
was  made,  only  a  large  red  spot  could  be  found  on  his  skin; 
he  had  evidently  been  hit  by  a  piece  of  tin  or  solder  from  a 
canister  which  no  doubt  stung  him  hard ! 

My  regiment  now  received  orders  to  form  ranks  and  we 

230 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

immediately  went  forward  down  the  road  at  a  run,  passing 
other  regiments  held  in  reserve  who  encouraged  us  with 
such  remarks  as  "Go  in,  Second  Infantry,  and  give  them 
hell !  Pitch  into  them,  boys !"  When  we  came  to  the  little 
stream  previously  mentioned,  we  filed  to  the  right  and 
passed  along  for  some  distance,  halted,  closed  up  the  ranks 
and  fixed  bayonets  when  I  discovered  that  I  had  lost  mine; 
it  had  slipped  out  of  its  scabbard  while  I  was  climbing  a 
fence.  We  then  crossed  the  ravine  and  brush  and  went  up  the 
incline  in  company  front  and  found  ourselves  on  the  right  of 
the  Fifth  New  York  Regiment  of  Warren's  brigade,  prolonging 
his  line  of  battle.  I  distinctly  remember  seeing  General  Warren 
mounted  on  a  gray  horse  at  the  right  front  of  his  line,  a  very 
conspicuous  figure,  watching  the  Second  Infantry  taking  their 
place  in  line. 

At  this  stage  of  the  war  neither  the  officers  nor  the 
soldiers  had  learned  to  take  advantage  of  any  inequalities 
of  the  ground,  or  in  the  absence  of  such,  to  dig  a  hole  and 
throw  up  a  small  heap  of  dirt  for  protection,  behind  which 
the  soldier  lay  and  fired  if  the  enemy  was  at  some  distance. 
They  learned  to  do  this  very  soon,  however.  In  passing  I 
noticed  that  most  of  the  Fifth  New  York  on  our  left  had 
set  up  their  knapsacks  in  front  of  them  and  were  firing  in  a 
horizontal  position. 

Our  colors  were  planted  on  the  very  brow  of  the  rise  and 
we  dressed  (aligned)  to  them  as  we  did  when  on  parade. 
This  brought  us  in  full  view  of  and  made  us  a  conspicuous 
mark  for  the  enemy  who  were  plainly  seen  at  the  edge  of  a 
wood  directly  in  front  about  two  hundred  yards  away.  As 
soon  as  they  observed  us  they  began  firing,  with  but  little 
effect  at  first,  until  some  minutes  after  when  they  estimated 
the  distance  more  closely.  We  lost  no  time  in  replying. 
The  command  was  given  to  commence  firing,  to  fire  at  will, 
and  to  sight  for  two  hundred  yards. 

As  soon  as  I  began  to  fire  at  the  enemy,  I  was  inspired  by 
very  different  feelings  from  what  I  had  experienced  while 
lying  inactively  in  the  road,  being  shelled  by  the  enemy  and 

231 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

unable  to  reply;  this,  I  think,  has  a  dispiriting  effect  on  a 
young  soldier.  I  now  felt  a  strong  desire  to  inflict  all  the 
damage  I  could  on  the  enemy.  I  was  cool  and  collected  and 
took  deliberate  aim  with  every  shot,  as  long  as  I  could  dis- 
tinguish individuals,  and  when  the  smoke  became  thick  I 
aimed  at  the  flash  of  their  guns  and  admonished  my  nearest 
comrades  in  the  ranks  do  the  same. 

The  bullets  began  to  whistle  spitefully  about  our  ears 
now;  some  struck  the  ground  in  front  of  us,  raising  the 
dust,  but  the  greater  part  of  them  went  above  our  heads. 
A  hasty  glance  to  the  right  and  left  along  the  line  showed 
me,  however,  that  men  were  falling  here  and  there,  and 
presently  my  comrade  on  my  right  in  the  front  rank  pitched 
forward  on  his  face  to  the  ground,  exclaiming  with  a  groan, 
"I've  got  it!"  He  seemed  in  intense  pain  and  clutched  the 
earth  with  his  fingers.  I  turned  him  on  his  back  and  found 
that  he  had  been  hit  in  the  right  thigh,  and  I  am  sure  that  in 
the  din  of  battle  I  heard  the  bullet  strike  him  and  break  the 
thigh  bone.  There  is  a  peculiar  sound  or  thud  when  a  bullet 
enters  a  human  body,  different  from  that  which  it  makes 
when  striking  other  objects — a  sound,  once  heard,  not  easily 
forgotten.  I  ordered  two  men  to  take  the  wounded  man  a 
few  yards  to  the  rear,  down  the  incline,  out  of  the  line  of 
fire,  where  they  left  him  in  the  shade  of  some  bushes  and 
saw  to  it  that  he  had  his  canteen  handy,  and  then  they  took 
their  places  again  in  the  firing  line.  When  the  wounded  man 
was  removed  I  picked  up  his  rifle,  took  off  the  bayonet  and 
affixed  it  to  mine,  thinking  I  might  need  it  if  we  came  to 
close  quarters. 

I  will  here  digress  in  my  story  and  relate  what  happened 
to  this  soldier  whom  we  left  grievously  wounded  on  the 
battle  field  when  we  had  to  retreat,  for  the  purpose  of  show- 
ing how  the  enemy  often  cruelly  neglected  our  wounded. 
The  man's  name  was  Charles  Rehm.  He  was  company  clerk 
at  this  time,  and  I  had  known  him  well  ever  since  he  joined 
my  company  at  Fort  Leavenworth,  Kansas,  in  1858.  I  met 
him  about  eighteen  months  after  this  battle,  while  on  a 

232 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

short  furlough  in  Washington.  He  related  to  me  how,  soon 
after  being  wounded,  he  seemed  to  have  lost  consciousness 
and  remembered  little  until  near  the  close  of  the  following 
day — more  than  twenty-six  hours  after  he  was  hit — when  a 
Rebel  surgeon  attended  him  and  he  was  sent  to  a  hospital  in 
Richmond  that  night  along  with  many  other  wounded  Union 
prisoners.  There  they  wanted  to  amputate  his  leg,  but  he 
told  them  he  would  rather  die  than  loose  his  leg.  He  was 
a  young  man  about  twenty-five,  strong  and  vigorous.  He 
recovered,  but  his  right  leg  was  much  shorter  than  the  left ; 
he  had  to  use  a  cane  and  limped  badly.  At  the  time  he  was 
employed  as  a  clerk  in  the  War  Department. 

To  continue  my  story  of  the  battle,  after  firing  many 
rounds  in  our  exposed  position  we  were  ordered  to  fall  back 
a  few  paces  and  to  fire  kneeling  or  lying  down.  The  rising 
ground  in  front  of  us  now  gave  us  a  little  protection.  I  fired 
a  few  rounds  in  a  prostrate  position,  in  which  it  was  difficult 
to  reload,  until  I  saw  a  man  a  few  files  from  me  receive  a 
horrible  wound  which  opened  his  face  from  his  forehead  to 
his  chin ;  then  I  arose  and  fired  kneeling  until  I  heard  a  sud- 
den command  to  close  ranks  and  fire  by  company.  This 
command,  I  learned  afterward,  was  given  because  the  enemy 
seemed  to  form  for  a  charge  upon  us.  We  arose  and  in  close 
double  ranks  began  to  fire  volleys  all  together,  to  the  com- 
mands of  "load!"  "ready!"  "aim!"  and  "fire!"  which  proved 
to  be  very  effective,  for  the  Rebels  retired  into  the  woods 
and  for  a  little  while  their  firing  ceased;  then  it  recom- 
menced in  a  more  feeble  way,  when  we  ceased  firing  by  com- 
pany and  fired  at  will  again.  While  the  volley  firing  was 
going  on,  I  received  what  seemed  like  a  hard  blow  on  the 
right  side  of  my  head  which  staggered  me;  but  I  immedi- 
ately guessed  the  cause  of  it  and  turned  around  to  my  rear- 
rank  man,  who  had  to  fire  over  my  shoulder,  and  soundly 
berated  and  threatened  him.  He  proved  to  be  the  stupid  and 
excitable  recruit,  named  Davis,  whom  I  had  drilled  in  Wash- 
ington at  times.  My  neck  and  ear  were  blackened  with  powder, 
and  it  was  months  before  I  regained  perfect  hearing. 

233 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Loading  and  firing  the  old  style  muzzle  loading  arms  was 
slow  compared  with  modern  arms  and  metallic  cartridges. 
Before  the  gun  could  be  fired,  we  had  to  take  a  paper  cart- 
ridge out  of  the  cartridge  box,  convey  it  to  the  mouth,  bite 
off  the  end  and  pour  the  powder  into  the  muzzle  of  the  gun 
barrel  held  vertically.  Then  we  tore  off  the  remaining  paper 
to  free  the  ball  and  inserted  that  into  the  muzzle ;  the  ram- 
rod was  now  drawn,  turned  around,  end  for  end,  and  the  ball 
rammed  home  without  any  wadding;  the  ramrod  was  then 
drawn  out,  turned  and  restored  to  its  place.  The  gun  was 
now  brought  to  the  right  hip,  full  cocked,  a  percussion  cap 
placed  on  the  nipple,  and  was  then  ready  to  aim  and  fire. 
All  this  required  many  motions  and  much  time. 

The  day  was  intensely  hot,  my  clothing  was  saturated 
with  perspiration,  the  bright  barrel  of  my  gun  was  so  heated 
by  the  fierce  rays  of  the  sun  and  the  firing  that  it  seemed 
to  burn  my  hands  and  I  was  almost  afraid  to  reload  it  with- 
out giving  it  time  to  cool  off.  I  think  we  had  been  under 
fire  nearly  two  hours,  and  our  forty  rounds  of  ammunition 
were  almost  exhausted  when  a  regiment  of  the  Pennsyl- 
vania Bucktails  (so  called  because  each  soldier  had  a  buck's 
tail  sewed  to  his  cap)  arrived  to  relieve  us.  We  were  or- 
dered to  retire  into  the  small  ravine  behind  us,  passing 
through  the  ranks  of  the  Bucktails  who  advanced  to  take 
our  places.  We  left  our  dead  and  seriously  wounded  behind 
us  where  they  fell,  unable  to  give  them  any  help,  crossed  the 
little  stream  in  the  ravine  and  formed  ranks  on  the  other 
side  in  a  field — a  much  shorter  line  thaPit  had  been  but  two 
hours  before. 

We  marched  off  in  good  order  to  the  rear  until  we  gained 
some  rising  ground,  when  a  Rebel  battery  opened  on  us  with 
grape  shot  which  killed  and  wounded  more  of  our  men, 
among  them  Captain  Richard  Brindley  who  commanded 
the  regiment  at  this  time.  He  was  instantly  killed  by  a 
grape  shot.  We  broke  into  double  quick  pace  to  reach  lower 
ground  and  escape  from  the  fire  of  this  battery;  then  we 
turned  to  the  right  in  the  direction  of  the  Adams  house  and 

234 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

halted  about  a  half  a  mile  back  of  our  firing  line,  where  we 
found  some  regiments  from  General  Slocum's  division,  which 
had  been  sent  by  General  McClellan  from  the  other  side  of 
the  Chickahominy  to  reinforce  the  Fifth  Army  Corps  which 
up  to  this  time  had  held  more  than  double  its  number  of  the 
enemy  at  bay.  The  battle  at  this  time  was  raging  fiercely — 
nearly  a  hundred  thousand  men  were  engaged ;  from  our  po- 
sition, however,  we  saw  but  little  of  it  except  some  batteries 
on  high  ground  behind  us  firing  over  our  heads  at  the  enemy. 

We  lay  on  the  ground,  tired  and  exhausted  by  what  we 
had  gone  through,  noting  the  absence  of  many  of  our  com- 
rades and  relating  to  each  other  how  we  had  seen  this  or 
that  one  fall.  Three  of  our  lieutenants  we  had  not  seen 
since  noon-time ;  and  we  wondered  what  had  become  of  our 
band  and  the  drummers  and  fifers,  whom  we  had  not  seen 
since  morning,  and  who  should  have  been  acting  as 
stretcher-bearers  to  carry  the  wounded  off  the  field.  There 
was  no  organized  ambulance  corps  in  our  brigade  at  this 
time,  and  but  few  ambulances;  and,  unfortunately,  the 
wounded  soldiers  who  could  not  walk  were  left  on  the  field 
where  they  fell.  This  sad  state  of  affairs  was  much  im- 
proved later  on  in  the  war. 

Some  ammunition  now  arived,  but  only  twenty  rounds 
could  be  served  out  to  each  man.  The  first  sergeant  of  my 
company  informed  me  that  I  had  been  selected  to  serve  on 
the  color  guard.  This  was  considered  an  honor,  but  it  had 
its  disadvantages,  the  killed  and  wounded  being  always 
greater  in  proportion  on  the  color  guard  than  in  the  com- 
panies. One  of  our  two  color  sergeants  had  been  killed  and 
two  of  the  color  corporals  wounded.  I  left  the  ranks  of  my 
company  and  joined  the  color  guard.  I  expected  to  find  the 
colors  riddled  with  bullet  holes  from  the  fire  of  the  enemy 
and  was  greatly  surprised  to  find  a  bare  half-dozen  holes  in 
each. 

We  remained  in  our  position  a  while  longer  and  saw  many 
wounded  men  and  stragglers  making  their  way  to  the  rear 
Presently  larger  bodies  of  broken  regiments  appeared  and 

235 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

we  realized  that  the  Fifth  Corps  was  being  forced  back  by 
the  overwhelming  numbers  of  the  enemy.  Some  loud  cheer- 
ing on  the  high  ground  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  the  rear 
startled  us,  and,  from  the  appearance  of  the  troops  of  which 
some  regiments  wore  straw  hats,  we  thought  they  were 
Rebels  who  had  broken  into  our  ranks  from  the  rear,  but 
they  proved  to  be  parts  of  French's  and  Meagher's  Irish  bri- 
gades which  had  been  sent  to  reinforce  General  Porter.  They 
were  sent  too  late,  however,  to  be  of  material  assistance. 

It  was  nearly  sunset  when  two  officers  from  General  Sykes's 
staff  made  their  appearance  and  gave  some  order  to  Captain 
John  S.  Poland  who  was  now  in  command,  and  immediately 
the  order  was  given  to  fall  in,  then  by  the  left  flank  forward 
at  double  quick.  The  two  aides-de-camp  were  mounted  and  led 
the  column  to  make  a  charge  on  the  enemy  by  General 
Sykes's  order;  one  of  them  was  Lieutenant  Thomas  D. 
Parker  of  my  regiment,  the  name  of  the  other,  who  belonged 
to  a  different  regiment,  I  do  not  remember.  We  rushed  on  for 
about  two  hundred  yards  when  we  halted  for  a  brief  space 
to  correct  the  alignment  on  the  colors  in  the  center;  then  the 
command  "forward,  charge."  was  given  and  we  rushed  up 
a  hill  for  a  hundred  yards  or  so,  cheering  and  yelling  like 
mad,  the  two  aides-de-camp  riding  in  front  in  the  center 
waving  their  swords. 

It  suddenly  came  to  me  that  we  were  about  to  attack  the 
enemy  with  bayonets.  I  had  been  instructed  in  bayonet 
drill  and  had  practised  until  I  was  considered  proficient ;  but  I 
think  at  this  moment  I  had  a  secret  wish  that  the  adversary 
whom  I  might  encounter  would  not  be  a  bigger  man  than  I.  I 
looked  ahead  but  could  see  no  enemy  until  we  reached  the  crest 
of  the  hill,  when  we  suddenly  received  a  staggering  fire,  from  a 
Rebel  regiment  that  seemed  not  more  than  twenty  yards 
away.  I  saw  both  of  the  mounted  officers  fall  at  the  first  fire, 
Lieutenant  Parker  being  killed  and  the  other  wounded.  One 
of  the  horses  dropped,  while  the  other  rushed  madly  through 
our  ranks. 

I  do  not  know  whether  it  was  by  word  of  command  or  by 

236 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

instinct  that  we  halted  and  instantly  began  firing  instead  of 
rushing  on  with  the  bayonet.  I  dropped  on  one  knee  and 
commenced  firing  as  fast  as  I  could ;  I  aimed  at  their  colors 
which  were  almost  opposite  ours.  We  were  so  close  together 
that  for  a  few  minutes  I  could  plainly  distinguish  the  features 
and  color  of  clothing  of  our  opponents  until  the  smoke  obscured 
them.  Suddenly  their  fire  slackened  and  then  ceased  alto- 
gether ;  they  seemed  to  have  melted  away  down  their  side  of 
the  hill,  and  we  could  see  only  their  dead  and  wounded  on 
the  ground  where  they  had  been  in  line.  Why  we  did  not 
pursue  the  retreating  enemy  puzzled  me,  for  I  thought  we 
now  had  a  chance  to  give  them  a  good  thrashing 

I  stood  up  and  looked  around  on  a  sight  still  vividly  im- 
pressed on  my  memory.  We  were  on  high  ground  over- 
looking a  considerable  part  of  the  fields  on  which  the  battle 
now  raged ;  the  sun  was  setting  and  with  its  almost  horizon- 
tal rays  lit  up  a  magnificent  panorama  such  as  I  have  never 
seen  since.  I  could  see  masses  of  infantry  engaged  in  deadly 
struggle,  the  flashing  of  the  artillery,  and  I  heard  the  terri- 
fic roar;  but  what  fascinated  me  was  the  figure  of  a  Rebel 
officer,  mounted  on  a  horse  reared  up  until  he  seemed  to 
stand  almost  straight  on  his  hind  legs.  I  could  see  the  officer 
waving  his  sword  over  his  head,  apparently  urging  his 
command  forward.  At  this  moment  the  horse  and  rider, 
illuminated  by  the  parting  rays  of  the  sun,  appeared  gigan- 
tic and  towered  above  all  else.  It  was  a  picture  for  an 
artist.  I  took  all  this  in,  it  seemed  to  me,  in  a  few  seconds, 
when  I  heard  a  command  given  and  dropped  back  into  my 
place.  The  enemy  had  been  so  close  to  us,  and  I  had  been 
so  busy  loading  and  firing,  that  I  had  looked  neither  to  the 
right  nor  to  the  left,  but  now  I  observed  that  we  had  suf- 
fered severely  and  that  two  corporals  of  the  color  guard  had 
been  wounded. 

Suddenly  we  heard  the  Rebel  yell  and  saw  a  mass  of  Rebel 
infantry  rushing  toward  us.  We  began  firing  at  them  as 
soon  as  we  saw  their  heads  appear  above  the  crest  of  the 
hill.  They  halted,  short  of  their  former  line  it  seemed  to 

237 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

me,  and  delivered  their  fire  as  we  had  done  when  we  had 
rushed  at  them.  Later  on,  when  I  had  time  to  think  it  over, 
it  seemed  to  me  that  these  tactics  were  not  in  accordance 
with  what  I  had  supposed  a  charge  to  be.  In  this  case  both 
sides,  finding  that  the  party  attacked  was  not  inclined  to  run, 
halted  and  peppered  away  at  each  other  rather  than  become 
engaged  at  close  quarters. 

Our  condition  now  was  rather  serious.  Our  ammunition 
was  running  very  low  and  I  suppose  there  were  no  rein- 
forcements close  at  hand.  A  German  battery  posted  on 
some  high  ground  behind  us  tried  to  aid  by  firing  at  the 
Rebels,  but  unfortunately  their  aim  was  bad  and  they  did 
us  more  harm  than  they  did  to  the  enemy ;  a  few  of  our  men 
on  the  right  being  killed  and  some  wounded  in  the  back  by 
the  firing  of  this  battery. 

I  had  not  fired  many  shots  in  the  second  encounter  on  the 
hill  and  was  in  the  act  of  ramming  a  cartridge,  when  a  com- 
mand or  shout  caused  me  to  look  to  the  right  and  I  saw  that 
our  right  wing  had  broken  and  were  running  down  the  hill 
helter-skelter,  and  that  we  were  being  fired  at  from  that  di- 
rection, as  well  as  from  the  front.  I  understood  that  we  had 
been  outflanked  and  that  we  would  be  taken  prisoners.  I 
yelled  to  my  comrades  of  the  color  guard  and  started  to  run 
with  them,  not  taking  time  to  withdraw  the  ramrod  from  the 
barrel  of  my  gun.  There  was  a  friendly  piece  of  woods  a 
hundred  yards  or  more  ahead  of  us  to  our  right — a  shelter 
we  were  all  striving  for,  but  which  many  did  not  reach  for 
the  enemy  kept  up  a  hot  fire  all  the  way.  Twice  I  had  to 
jump  over  men  who  had  been  hit  and  rolled  over  in  my 
path.  The  enemy  kept  on  firing  volleys  into  the  woods  for 
a  time  but  made  no  attempt  to  follow  us.  I  got  behind  a 
tree  and,  like  many  others,  fired  off  half  a  dozen  catridges  in 
the  enemy's  direction,  retaining  but  two  out  of  the  sixty  I 
had  during  the  day.  Darkness  was  coming  on.  For  us  the 
Battle  of  Gaines's  Mill  was  over,  but  it  still  raged  on  other 
parts  of  the  field  as  long  as  it  was  light,  and  I  think  it  was 
nine  o'clock  before  all  firing  ceased.  I  learned  later  that  our 

238 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

last  attack  had  been  made  on  Turkey  Hill,  not  very  far  from 
the  position  we  had  held  at  noon  before  the  battle  began. 
Therefore  we  had  lost  little  ground. 

Efforts  were  now  made  by  our  officers  to  reform  our  com- 
mand which  had  become  scattered  throughout  the  woods; 
and  with  difficulty  the  remnants  were  gathered  together  and 
we  made  our  way  out  of  the  woods  to  the  road  by  which  we 
had  approached  in  the  forenoon.  Here  we  reformed  ranks 
and  took  up  our  march  in  retreat. 

We  soon  came  to  a  place  where  the  road  was  skirted  by 
thick  woods  on  the  left  and  a  high  bank  on  the  right  with 
a  free  space  between  the  bank  and  the  road  on  which  were 
piled  hundreds  of  boxes  of  infantry  and  artillery  ammuni- 
tion. As  we  passed,  a  young  and  very  indiscreet  officer 
made  frantic  appeals  to  some  of  us  to  stop  and  help  him  set 
fire  to  the  ammunition  to  prevent  it  from  falling  into  the 
hands  of  the  enemy.  No  attention  was  paid  to  him  further 
than  calling  him  a  fool,  for  the  road  was  crowded  with  re- 
treating troops  and  wounded  men  making  their  way  pain- 
fully to  the  rear.  An  explosion  of  the  ammunition  would 
have  made  sad  havoc  among  them. 

After  a  while  we  arrived  at  the  point  of  the  road  where  we 
had  deposited  our  knapsacks.  Here  we  were  halted  and 
told  to  pick  them  out  in  a  hurry.  It  was  dark  by  this  time 
and  the  piles  of  knapsacks  seemed  to  be  mixed  up  in  hope- 
less confusion.  Very  few  of  the  soldiers  got  their  own;  I 
could  not  find  mine  nor  even  one  belonging  to  my  company. 
I  had  to  grab  one  and  rejoin  the  ranks. 

We  resumed  our  march  in  the  direction  of  Woodbury's 
Bridge,  and  when  we  neared  it,  we  were  ordered  to  bivouac 
in  a  piece  of  woods  on  the  left  side  of  the  road.  I  sought  my 
company  to  bivouac  with  them,  but  could  find  only  a  few 
men.  The  first  sergeant  had  a  prisoner  in  charge,  a  Rebel 
lieutenant  whom  he  turned  over  to  me  as  I  was  the  only  non- 
commissioned officer  of  the  company  present  besides  him- 
self. He  told  me  to  have  him  guarded  during  the  night,  but 
I  resolved  to  guard  him  myself  for  a  time  and  then  turn  him 

239 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

over  to  someone  else.  I  talked  with  him  for  a  while  and 
gave  him  a  couple  of  my  crackers,  and  fortunately,  he  had  a 
canteen  of  his  own  with  some  water  in  it,  of  which  I  was 
very  glad,  as  I  had  but  a  swallow  or  two  left  in  mine,  hav- 
ing been  unable  to  replenish  it  during  the  day.  He  lay  down 
on  the  ground,  after  telling  me  that  he  was  slightly  wounded 
in  the  leg  and  apparently  went  to  sleep.  I  tried  hard  to  keep 
awake  and  for  a  while  listened  to  our  army  marching  on  the 
road  to  the  bridge ;  but  I  was  so  tired  and  exhausted  by  the 
trials  of  the  day  that,  in  spite  of  my  resolution,  I  dropped  to 
the  ground  and  to  sleep ;  and  I  think  the  heaviest  cannonad- 
ing could  not  have  awakened  me  before  daybreak.  When, 
in  the  morning,  someone  shook  me  and  I  looked  about,  I 
found  that  my  prisoner  had  escaped  during  the  night. 
Nothing  was  said  or  done  about  it,  and  I  was  thankful  that 
the  prisoner  had  not  harmed  me,  helpless  as  I  was  from 
fatigue. 

On  the  morning  of  the  twenty-eighth  of  June  most  of  our 
stragglers  and  men  who  had  lost  their  way  in  the  woods 
the  evening  before  rejoined  us.  The  greater  part  of  the 
army  had  crossed  to  the  south  side  of  the  Chickahominy  during 
the  night,  and  it  was  left  to  Sykes's  division  of  regulars  to 
form  the  rear  guard  and  destroy  the  bridges,  which  we  did 
about  an  hour  after  daylight,  unmolested  by  the  enemy  at 
the  Woodbury  Bridge  where  my  brigade  crossed.  When 
we  reached  the  other  side  we  marched  half  a  mile  or  more 
until  we  reached  some  higher  ground,  where  we  stacked 
arms  and  rested  among  some  shrubbery  beside  the  road. 

Here  for  the  first  time  in  two  days,  I  was  able  to  boil  some 
coffee  which  greatly  cheered  and  refreshed  me.  I  then 
opened  the  knapsack  which  I  had  picked  up  the  night  before 
and  found  therein  the  usual  soldier's  kit,  and  in  addition 
thereto  a  neat  and  well-kept  diary,  in  which  the  writer  de- 
scribed how  he  had  left  his  home  in  England  and  had  come 
to  Canada,  where  after  a  time  he  was  employed  on  the 
estate  of  a  gentleman  as  a  horse-trainer;  and  how  he  got 
into  some  trouble  with  the  female  members  of  the  family 

240 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

and  was  discharged,  when  he  made  his  way  into  the  United 
States  and  finally  drifted  into  the  army.  Up  to  this  point 
the  diary  was  very  complete  and  full  of  details ;  but  of  his 
army  life  there  were  only  a  few  straggling  entries  made  at 
odd  times.  No  name  appeared,  neither  was  his  company 
mentioned,  but  I  found  some  initials  on  his  clothing  by 
means  of  which,  after  many  inquiries,  I  found  the  company 
to  which  he  belonged,  but  he  had  not  been  seen  since  our 
last  fight  with  the  enemy  on  Turkey  Hill,  where  he  was 
supposed  to  have  been  killed  or  taken  prisoner.  I  left  the 
diary  with  the  first  sergeant  of  his  company  to  be  returned 
to  him  if  he  ever  came  back.  I  made  inquiries  in  regard  to 
my  own  knapsack  but  could  find  no  trace  of  it.  The  only 
things  I  regretted  losing  were  a  few  letters  and  keepsakes. 

Many  of  our  wounded  were  transported  to,  or  had  gone 
on  to  Savage's  Station,  where  there  were  thousands  of  them, 
but  there  were  still  a  number  of  slightly  wounded  with  us 
who  kept  our  surgeon  and  hospital  steward,  assisted  by  a 
detail  from  the  band,  busy  all  the  morning  dressing  their 
wounds.  First  sergeants  of  companies  called  the  roll  during 
the  morning  and,  when  they  came  to  a  name  to  which  there 
was  no  response,  those  who  had  seen  the  man  fall,  killed  or 
wounded  stated  it  and  the  sergeant  made  note  of  it;  of 
others,  no  one  knew  anything.  Some  of  them  may  have 
been  taken  prisoners  at  Turkey  Hill.  In  this  way  we  learn- 
ed approximately  of  our  losses  in  this  battle,  which  amount- 
ed to  more  than  one-third  of  my  regiment — a  larger  amount 
in  proportion  to  our  small  number,  only  six  companies,  than 
any  other  regiment  in  our  brigade.  Our  losses  could  not  be 
computed  accurately  until  sometime  later.  General  George 
Sykes,  in  his  report  of  the  Battle  of  Gaines's  Mill,  mentions 
the  Second  and  Sixth  United  States  Infantry  of  our  brigade, 
the  Twelfth  and  Fourteenth  of  the  First  Brigade,  and  the 
"Duryee  Zouaves"  of  the  Third  Brigade  as  especially  con- 
spicuous during  the  action. 

All  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  now  united  on  the 
south  side  of  the  Chickahominy  nearer  to  Richmond  than 

241 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

the  greater  part  of  the  Rebel  Army  which  was  now  divided 
by  a  river  as  we  had  been — Jackson's,  Longstreet's  and  Hill's 
divisions  under  General  Lee  being  on  the  north  bank  with 
many  of  the  bridges  destroyed  by  the  Federal  troops  in  their 
retreat.  Even  the  rank  and  file  knew  this  and  we  fully  ex- 
pected to  be  led  on  to  Richmond  with  every  chance  of  suc- 
cess in  our  favor ;  and  when  in  the  afternoon  we  heard  some 
heavy  firing  on  our  side  of  the  river,  we  thought  our  op- 
portunity had  arrived,  but,  as  we  learned  later,  it  was  only 
a  minor  engagement  between  a  part  of  General  Magruder's 
troops  and  General  Smith's  division  of  our  Sixth  Army 
Corps  at  Golding's  Farm  and  was  repulsed  with  small  loss 
on  our  side. 

We  lay  around  in  the  hot  sun  all  day,  getting  but  little 
shade  from  some  low  bushes,  were  awaiting  orders,  but 
none  came  until  evening.  Ammunition  was  issued  to  us  and 
one  day's  rations.  Our  supply  trains  to  the  number  of  about 
five  thousand  wagons,  together  with  the  reserve  artillery, 
were  on  the  way  to  the  James  river,  where  General  Mc- 
Clellan  had  decided  to  establish  a  new  base  of  supplies. 
Well  on  towards  evening  we  received  orders  to  "fall  in," 
and  marched  off  not  knowing  where  we  were  going;  but 
about  dusk  we  arrived  at  Savage's  Station  on  the  Richmond 
and  York  River  Railroad.  Here  many  troops  were  in  biv- 
ouac and  thousands  of  wounded  were  gathered  in  hospital 
tents  by  the  roadside,  but  the  greater  part  of  them  lay 
around  in  the  fields  or  woods  without  shelter  of  any  kind. 
It  was  a  sad  sight  for  us  to  witness.  There  were  not  am- 
bulances enough  to  transport  the  unfortunate  victims  and 
more  than  twenty-five  hundred  of  them  were  abandoned  and 
taken  prisoners  next  day.  We  were  halted  here  for  some- 
time and  noticed  great  fires  burning  up  supplies  and  mili- 
tary stores  of  all  kinds  which  left  no  doubt  in  our  minds 
that  we  were  retreating  from  Richmond. 

We  started  on  again  and  soon  entered  some  dark  and 
gloomy  woods,  through  which  the  road  led  toward  the 
White  Oak  Swamp.  It  was  so  dark  in  these  woods  that  we 

242 


TEN  YEARS  IN 'THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

could  not  distinguish  anything  half  a  dozen  files  in  front  of 
us.  At  a  few  places  where  the  roads  crossed,  fires  were 
lighted  and  guards  were  stationed  to  indicate  the  way. 
Owing  to  the  darkness,  mainly,  and  some  rain,  our  progress 
was  very  slow  and  we  had  many  halts  of  long  and  short  dur- 
ation, at  some  of  these  tired  out,  I  dropped  to  the  ground 
and  fell  asleep  as  soon  as  I  touched  it.  During  one  of  these 
short  rests  in  the  night,  I  was  suddenly  awakened  by  hear- 
ing shots  fired  close  by  me.  I  jumped  up  and  in  my  con- 
fusion imagined  that  we  were  being  attacked.  I  hid  behind 
a  tree  on  one  side  of  the  road,  like  many  others,  cocked  my 
gun  and  listened.  There  was  a  noise  which  sounded  like 
cavalry  and  a  chatter  like  sabre  scabbards,  it  seemed  to  us 
in  our  half-awake  condition.  Scattering  shots  continued  to 
be  fired,  until  it  was  discovered  that  the  alarm  was  caused  by 
an  officer's  pack-mule,  that  had  escaped  from  his  keeper  and 
was  running  down  the  road  among  the  sleeping  soldiers, 
rattling  the  kettles  and  pans  which  were  a  part  of  his  load. 
A  number  of  shots  were  fired  at  him,  but  the  mule  bore  a 
charmed  life  and  was  unharmed. 

Soon  after  daylight  on  June  twenty-ninth,  we  crossed  the 
White  Oak  Swamp  at  what  was  known  as  Brackett's  Ford, 
halting  a  short  distance  beyond,  where  we  stopped  to  boil 
coffee  and  eat  breakfast.  The  only  water  to  be  had  was 
that  of  the  swamp  which  was  dark  and  stagnant.  After 
breakfast  we  took  up  a  position  a  little  further  on  and  re- 
mained in  line  of  battle  for  hours,  listening  to  the  heavy 
firing  behind  us  at  Savage's  Station,  where  General  Sum- 
ner  kept  the  enemy  at  bay  until  dark  and  then  retreated  dur- 
ing the  night  across  White  Oak  Swamp. 

The  country  we  were  in  was  a  wilderness  of  woods,  bush 
and  swamps,  and  for  two  days  we  hardly  saw  a  clearing,  or 
a  cabin.  The  enemy  had  repaired  some  of  the  bridges 
across  the  Chickahominy  and  we  were  in  danger  of  flank 
attacks  from  both  sides,  the  more  so  on  our  right,  between 
us  and  the  James  river  where  the  enemy  followed  us  on  a 
parallel  road.  Several  times  during  the  day  in  these  woods, 

243 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

where  the  heat  was  almost  insupportable  and  not  a  breath 
of  air  was  stirring,  we  thought  we  were  about  to  be  at- 
tacked, and,  with  our  rifles  at  full  cock,  kneeled  on  the 
ground  peering  into  the  thicket  and  silently  awaited  the 
foe.  At  different  periods  of  the  day  some  of  our  own  troops 
marched  along  the  road  in  the  direction  of  Malvern  Hill, 
but  we  remained  until  dark,  only  changing  our  position  slightly 
a  few  times.  After  dark  we  resumed  our  march  and  put  in 
another  distressing  night;  the  more  so,  as  the  guide  for 
Sykes's  division  lost  the  road,  causing  us  to  countermarch 
for  a  long  distance,  so  that  we  did  not  reach  Malvern  Hill 
where  we  were  due  in  the  early  morning  hours  of  June 
thirtieth  until  nearly  noon  next  day.  On  this  day  a  severe 
battle  was  fought  at  Glendale,  which  lay  between  the  White 
Oak  Swamp  and  Malvern  Hill,  by  Generals  McCall  and 
Kearney  against  Generals  Longstreet  and  Hill  of  the  Con- 
federates. This  battle  resulted  in  a  repulse  for  the  enemy 
and  enabled  our  troops  to  retire  to  Malvern  Hill  during  the 
night,  where  by  daylight  on  July  first  the  entire  Army  of  the 
Potomac  was  assembled  in  a  strong  position  selected  by 
General  McClellan. 

Sykes's  division,  upon  its  arrival  during  the  forenoon  of 
June  thirtieth  was  posted  on  the  western  edge  of  the  large 
Malvern  plateau,  from  the  Malvern  house  toward  the  Crew 
house,  except  General  Warren's  brigade  which  formed  the 
extreme  left  down  on  the  river  road  in  the  bottom  lands. 
Half  a  dozen  batteries,  including  Tyler's  battery  of  ten  siege 
guns,  were  stationed  at  the  edge  of  the  plateau  overlooking 
the  steep  slope  and  the  fields  in  front,  which  ended  with  some 
woods  about  a  thousand  yards  away.  The  regiments  of  Sykes's 
division  were  placed  between  the  batteries  for  their  support. 
My  own  was  very  close  to  the  Malvern  house,  an  old  Colonial 
mansion  built  of  bricks  brought  from  Holland.  General  Fitz- 
John  Porter  made  this  house  his  headquarters.  It  was  also 
used  as  a  hospital  during  the  battle  and  as  a  signal  station, 
for  it  overlooked  much  of  the  country  and  the  James  river, 
where  several  gunboats  armed  with  heavy  guns  were  an- 

244 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

chored.  My  regiment  and  another  were  placed  between  the 
siege-gun  battery  and  a  regular  battery  of  six  Napoleon 
guns. 

The  position  occupied  by  the  Fifth  Corps  was  a  command- 
ing one  and  we  hoped  the  enemy  would  attempt  to  assault 
it.  We  lay  down  in  the  hot  sun,  thoroughly  tired  out  after 
our  night's  marching.  There  was  water  at  the  foot 
of  the  plateau  and  by  details  we  replenished  our  empty  can- 
teens but  were  forbidden  to  build  any  fires  to  make  coffee — 
besides  there  was  no  wood  to  be  had  near  our  position. 
Shortly  after  our  arrival  at  Malvern  Hill  a  gill  of  whiskey 
was  served  to  each  man  who  wished  to  take  it,  also  three 
pieces  of  hard-tack.  I  suppose  these  were  a  part  of  com- 
missary stores  left  behind,  for  our  wagon-train  was  by  this 
time  well  on  its  way  to  Harrison's  Landing  on  the  James 
river.  We  rested  and  slept  during  the  afternoon,  until 
rudely  awakened  by  our  batteries  beginning  to  fire  on  the 
enemy  down  in  the  low  ground  in  our  front  and  near  War- 
ren's brigade.  A  sergeant  of  the  Fourteenth  Infantry,  who 
had  probably  had  a  little  more  than  his  gill  and  was  con- 
fused when  tardily  aroused  by  the  firing,  cried  out,  "Is  it 
possible  I'm  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy?  I'm  a  British  sub- 
ject !" 

The  Rebels  advanced  some  artillery  from  the  woods  to  a 
position  within  eight  hundred  yards  of  us  and  opened  fire, 
some  of  their  shells  passing  over  us,  some  dropping  among 
Warren's  men.  By  standing  up,  I  could  plainly  see  their  bat- 
teries out  in  the  field,  as  well  as  a  large  body  of  infantry  at 
the  edge  of  the  woods  supporting  them.  In  a  few  minutes 
some  three  dozen  of  our  guns  on  the  plateau  were  firing  at 
them,  making  a  tremendous  uproar,  above  which  we  could 
distinguish  the  sound  of  the  large  guns  from  the  gunboats 
on  the  river  and  the  explosion  of  their  enormous  shells  among 
the  enemy  in  the  woods,  the  effect  of  which  must  have  been 
terrifying.  The  position  of  the  Rebel  batteries  and  their  in- 
fantry was  invisible  to  the  gunboats  owing  to  intervening 
woods,  so  that  their  fire  was  directed  by  signals.  The  signal 

245 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

corps  had  built  a  platform  at  one  of  the  chimneys  on  the 
steep  roof  of  the  Malvern  House,  from  which  I  noticed  two 
men  making  signals.  Whenever  one  of  the  great  two-hun- 
dred-pound shells,  fired  at  great  height,  rushed  through  the 
air,  it  sounded  like  a  train  of  cars  in  motion  at  high  speed 
and  the  explosion  shook  the  earth.  Some  of  these  shells 
fell  short  in  the  fields  in  our  front;  all  did  not  explode — 
some  spun  around,  threw  up  dirt  and  dug  holes  in  which  it 
seemed  a  horse  could  have  been  buried.  The  well-directed 
fire  of  our  guns  on  the  edge  of  the  plateau  destroyed  the 
Rebel  batteries  in  less  than  a  half  hour.  Several  caissons 
were  blown  up,  the  soldiers  abandoned  their  guns  in  wild 
flight,  and  the  infantry  disappeared,  making  no  further  at- 
tempt to  molest  Warren's  brigade  on  the  river  road  that  day. 

After  a  short  engagement,  in  which  there  were  only  a  few 
casualties  on  our  side,  it  remained  fairly  quiet  on  the  left 
wing  during  the  evening  and  throughout  the  night,  and  for 
the  first  time  since  leaving  our  camp  at  Gaines's  Mill  we  had 
a  night  of  unbroken  rest,  wrapped  in  our  blankets.  I  was  so 
weary  that  even  the  certainty  of  a  battle  the  next  day  could 
not  keep  me  awake,  and  I  slept  soundly  until  awakened  at 
daylight. 

The  morning  of  July  first  broke  bright  and  clear,  and  gave 
promise  of  a  hot  day.  The  Union  Army  seemed  in  excellent 
spirits;  bands  could  be  heard  playing  patriotic  airs  in  the 
early  morning  on  various  parts  of  our  line;  our  own  band 
played  for  a  time  with  a  most  cheering  effect.  Our  gigantic 
and  genial  Drum-Major  Lovell  whirled  his  baton  joyously 
and  showed  no  disappointment  because  his  daily  prayer  to 
the  Lord  to  send  him  a  million  dollars  remained  unanswered. 
He  hoped,  as  he  explained  to  us,  that  some  day  He  would 
get  tired  and  say,  "Let  the  poor  devil  have  it  and  not  bother 
me  any  longer."  Later  on  the  Lord  was  good  to  him,  for 
he  became  one  of  the  color  sergeants  of  the  regiment  and  re- 
mained in  that  capacity  for  eighteen  months  until  the  close 
of  the  war,  without  receiving  a  scratch ;  and  he  was  the  only 
color  bearer  in  my  regiment  who  served  that  length  of  time 

246 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

without  death  or  injury.  He  remained  in  the  army  for  many 
years  after  the  war ;  but,  alas !  ended  his  days  in  the  Soldiers' 
Home  in  Washington. 

The  enemy  were  massing  under  cover  of  the  woods  all  the 
morning;  we  caught  glimpses  of  them  through  some  of  the 
clearings.  After  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  they  advanced 
a  battery  occasionally,  feeling  different  parts  of  our  line,  but 
were  always  quickly  silenced  by  a  concentrated  fire  from 
our  artillery.  Some  one  of  the  batteries  which  we  supported 
kept  throwing  shells  into  the  woods  where  the  Rebels  were 
supposed  to  be  massing,  and  the  gunboats  also  fired  an  oc- 
casional shell.  This  artillery  duel  went  on  until  about  one 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  heavy  infantry  firing  took 
place  toward  the  center  of  our  line.  This  went  on  for  some 
hours,  spreading  toward  the  right ;  then  for  a  time  it  slack- 
ened, only  to  recommence  with  renewed  vigor  after  five 
o'clock  when  the  most  desperate  efforts  were  made  to  break 
our  line,  but  without  success. 

During  this  time  all  the  batteries  in  our  vicinity  kept  up  a 
tremendous  fire,  as  did  Tyler's  siege-guns  and  the  gunboats.  It 
was  estimated  that  at  times,  when  nearly  all  the  artillery  on 
both  sides  were  engaged,  over  two  hundred  guns  were  in 
action.  The  earth  trembled  and  the  roar  of  the  many  guns 
so  close  to  us  was  deafening.  I  think  it  was  the  heaviest 
firing  which  I  heard  during  the  war.  Again  we  were  in  a 
passive  state,  in  a  position  prone  to  the  ground  to  escape  the 
shells  from  the  enemy,  unable  to  fire  a  shot,  as  the  Rebel  in- 
fantry made  no  attack  on  our  part  of  the  line ;  they  deemed 
our  position  too  strong  to  be  assaulted  and  did  not  have  ar- 
tillery enough  to  make  any  serious  impression. 

During  this  great  artillery  duel  two  of  the  immense  shells 
from  the  gunboats  dropped  short  and  landed  among  the 
siege-guns  beside  us.  One  of  the  shells  exploded,  killing  and 
wounding  several  men.  The  gunboat  fire  was  stopped  for  a 
time  by  signal,  then  recommenced  in  a  different  direction.  The 
batteries  in  our  vicinity  suffered  little  loss  and  in  my  regiment 
only  two  men  were  wounded  during  all  this  firing.  About 

247 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

sundown  the  heavy  volleys  at  the  center  and  right  of  our  line 
ceased,  the  attacks  of  the  enemy  in  masses  had  been  repulsed 
and  they  had  withdrawn  with  great  loss,  without  penetrating 
our  line  at  any  point.  The  batteries  we  supported  ceased  firing, 
but  a  heavy,  desultory  infantry  fire  with  occasional  cannon 
shots  warned  us  that  the  battle  was  not  yet  over. 

Suddenly  we  received  orders  to  form  ranks  and  my  regiment 
marched  off  by  the  Quaker  Road  in  the  direction  of  the  Crew 
House,  near  the  center  of  our  line  and  about  a  mile  away. 
Our  band,  led  by  the  drum-major,  was  at  the  head  and,  by  or- 
ders of  Captain  Poland,  began  playing.  It  was  the  first  and 
the  only  time  during  the  war  that  I  heard  a  band  play,  while 
a  battle  was  on.  We  marched  as  if  on  parade;  the  music  was 
inspiring  and  drew  cheers  from  the  troops  among  which  we 
passed.  This  was  kept  up  until  we  turned  off  the  road  and 
some  spent  balls  began  to  drop  among  us,  when  the  band 
ceased  playing  and  fell  in  behind. 

We  marched  on  toward  the  place  we  were  to  occupy  and, 
when  near  it,  we  passed  a  curious  little  battery  which  was 
stationed  alongside  of  a  barn.  They  were  busy  firing.  I  had 
remarked  this  battery  a  few  times  when  it  passed  us  on  the 
road,  while  we  were  marching  up  the  peninsula.  It  consisted 
of  a  small  gun-carriage  and  limber  drawn  by  two  horses;  on 
the  gun-carriage  was  mounted  a  single  steel  barrel,  somewhat 
longer  and  heavier  than  an  ordinary  gun-barrel,  but  of  about 
the  same  calibre;  there  was  a  cranked  handle  to  turn  and  a 
hopper  to  receive  cartridges.  The  soldiers  named  it  the  "coffee- 
mill  battery."  It  really  looked  like  a  large  coffee-mill  mounted 
on  wheels,  except  for  the  barrel.  It  required  the  services  of 
three  men  to  fire  the  gun — one  to  feed  cartridges  into  the  hop- 
per, another  to  raise  or  depress  the  barrel  and  swing  it  right  or 
left  in  a  quarter-circle  and  to  take  aim,  while  the  third  man 
turned  the  crank  which  caused  the  explosion  of  the  charges. 
I  think  there  were  six  of  these  guns,  and  their  pop-pop-pop 
was  quite  rapid  and  continuous  as  we  passed  by  them.  They 
were  the  elementary  production  of  the  later  inventions — the 
mitrailleuse  and  gatling  guns.  They  disappeared  soon  after 

248 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

that  from  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  and  I  never  saw  them  in 
action  again. 

When  we  reached  our  position  along  a  wide  and  deep 
ravine,  it  was  almost  dark  and  objects  at  some  distance  could 
only  be  distinguished  with  difficulty.  An  irresolute  fire  was 
opened  upon  us  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  ravine,  to  which 
we  immediately  replied,  although  all  we  could  see  of  the  foe 
were  the  flashes  of  their  guns,  which  stopped  in  about  ten 
minutes  after  which  we  received  the  command  to  cease  firing. 
Half  a  dozen  were  wounded  in  this  short  engagement,  but  none 
killed.  We  remained  silent  in  our  position,  awaiting  a  possible 
attack,  hearing  very  plainly  some  of  the  commands  given  by 
the  Rebel  officers  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  dark  ravine. 
From  the  ravine  itself,  we  heard  groans  and  cries  of  wounded 
men  who  were  evidently  Rebels,  for  one  among  them,  probably 
an  officer,  in  his  delirium  sometimes  cried  out,  "Charge,  Ninth 
Georgia !" 

The  firing  on  other  parts  of  the  line  of  battle  did  not  cease 
entirely  for  an  hour  or  more,  and  then  the  enemy  seemed  to 
have  retired,  leaving  us  completely  victorious.  I  think  it  must 
have  been  much  later  than  ten  o'clock,  when  the  word  was 
quietly  passed  along  the  ranks  to  quit  our  position  and  creep 
back  as  silently  as  possible.  I  did  this  a  part  of  the  way, 
then  went  the  rest  of  the  distance  in  a  crouching  position,  until 
we  were  halted  and  re-formed  our  line.  Then  we  marched 
a  little  farther,  halted  again,  and  sat  on  the  ground,  resting 
and  wondering  what  these  movements  meant. 

Later,  the  first  sergeant  of  my  company  called  me  and  con- 
ducted me  to  the  adjutant,  who  ordered  me  to  make  my  way 
to  the  Malvern  house,  where  one  of  our  lieutenants  and  a  com- 
pany of  our  men  had  been  left  as  a  guard  at  the  general  hos- 
pital, and  to  inform  the  officer  to  hold  himself  and  his  men  in 
readiness  to  rejoin  the  regiment  when  it  passed  during  the 
night  or  morning.  Since  we  were  in  the  field  I  had  been 
selected  several  times  for  special  duties,  but  I  did  not  like 
this  one  in  the  least.  I  knew  the  general  direction  of  the 
Malvern  house,  whence  we  had  come,  and  if  I  could  gain  the 

249 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Quaker  Road  the  rest  would  be  easy.  But  to  reach  this  road 
it  was  necessary  to  cross  some  fields  and  a  piece  of  woods,  and 
it  struck  me  I  had  a  good  chance  of  being  shot  by  some  picket, 
or  getting  lost  and  being  taken  prisoner. 

The  sky  was  overcast  and  the  night  dark.  I  made  my  way 
cautiously  towards  the  woods  and  just  before  reaching  them 
passed  over  an  elevated  piece  of  ground,  where  evidently  one 
of  our  batteries  had  been  stationed  during  the  day.  I  inferred 
this  from  a  number  of  dead  horses,  some  with  their  stiffened 
legs  up  in  the  air,  and  among  them  a  few  dark  forms  which 
I  knew  but  too  well  were  the  bodies  of  artillerists.  I  hurried 
over  this  place  and  gained  the  edge  of  the  woods — which  I 
dreaded  the  most  on  account  of  pickets,  but  was  not  challenged. 
I  halted  a  moment  and  listened,  thinking  I  heard  the  clatter  of 
accoutrements  and  the  heavy  tramp  of  marching  men.  I  knew 
that  this  could  only  be  some  of  our  army  and  felt  much  re- 
lieved. 

Presently  I  was  among  them  on  the  Quaker  Road,  for  the 
woods  proved  to  be  shallow.  These  soldiers  belonged  to  an- 
other corps  and  were  retreating  very  reluctantly  toward  the 
James  river.  There  was  much  grumbling  among  them;  they 
wondered  why,  after  a  victory  and  with  a  retiring  enemy,  they 
were  ordered  to  leave  a  strong  position.  We  learned  later 
that  some  of  the  corps  commanders  had  importuned  General 
McClellan  to  hold  Malvern  Hill,  but  the  General  ruled  against 
it,  giving  as  his  reason  the  difficulty  of  supplying  the  army 
in  that  location. 

I  reached  the  Malvern  house  a  little  before  midnight  and 
found  a  sentinel  who  directed  me  to  the  lieutenant  in  charge. 
He  was  fast  asleep.  I  awakened  him  and  repeated  the  adju- 
tant's orders.  He  ordered  some  of  the  men  to  watch  the 
road  near  the  corner  of  the  house  and  notify  him  when  the 
regiment  appeared.  On  looking  around  I  saw  that  the  house 
was  brightly  lighted  and  there  was  much  commotion  caused 
by  officers  and  orderlies  rushing  in  and  out  of  General  Porter's 
headquarters;  it  was  also  the  principal  hospital,  and  in  the 
out-buildings  and  some  tents  I  could  see  surgeons  attending 

250 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

the  wounded  and  performing  amputations  by  candle-light,  while 
the  ground  back  of  the  house  was  covered  with  wounded 
soldiers. 

I  did  not  tarry  long  to  look  at  this  heart-rending  scene,  but 
made  my  way  along  the  front  of  the  house  and  the  out-houses. 
I  was  hungry  and  was  looking  around  to  find  something  to 
eat.  My  haversack  was  almost  empty ;  and  I  knew  the  neces- 
sity of  saving  something  for  the  morrow,  as  we  were  not 
likely  to  get  any  rations  until  we  came  to  our  supply  trains. 
As  we  had  not  been  able  to  make  coffee  for  some  days,  I  had 
plenty  of  that  and  sugar,  but  I  had  no  meat  and  only  a  few 
crackers,  so  I  prowled  around  until  I  observed  a  half  dozen 
soldiers  near  the  corner  of  a  fence  where  there  was  a  heap  of 
boxes  and  barrels,  which  proved  to  be  commissary  stores  left 
unguarded  and  probably  forgotten.  I  joined  the  group  and 
found  them  dipping  their  tin  cups  into  a  barrel,  of  which  they 
had  knocked  in  the  head,  and  filling  their  canteens  with  what 
I  knew  from  the  odor  to  be  whiskey.  This  seemed  a  heaven- 
sent opportunity  and  one  not  to  be  neglected.  I  emptied  my 
canteen  of  water  and  filled  it  with  whiskey.  Some  boxes  of 
hard-tack  had  been  opened,  from  which  I  filled  my  haversack. 
There  were  still  some  barrels  of  whiskey,  also  barrels  of  pork, 
which  the  group  decided  it  would  be  unsafe  to  break  open  on 
account  of  the  noise  it  would  make.  I  dipped  my  quart  cup 
into  the  barrel  once  more  and  hurried  away  with  it  in  my  hand, 
returning  to  the  guard  with  whom  I  shared  its  contents.  I 
kept  silent  regarding  my  canteen,  however.  I  did  not  dare  tell 
my  comrades  where  I  got  the  liquor,  for  fear  some  of  them 
would  become  intoxicated ;  so  I  was  forced  to  invent  a  tale  of 
having  received  it  from  one  of  the  hospital  stewards,  who  was 
a  friend  of  mine.  I  took  especial  care  to  guard  my  canteen 
with  its  precious  contents,  then  wrapped  myself  in  my  blanket 
and  went  to  sleep  among  my  comrades. 

I  was  awakened  at  daylight  when  our  brigade  approached. 
We  hurried  to  the  road  and  waited  until  the  regiment  came 
along,  then  joined  its  ranks.  Sykes's  division  was  again  cover- 
ing the  retreat  of  the  army.  The  First  Brigade,  under  Colonel 

251 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Buchannan,  formed  the  rear  guard  while  our  brigade  imme- 
diately preceded  them.  It  was  storming,  as  it  generally  did  after 
a  battle,  and  the  rain  soon  came  down  in  torrents,  wetting  us 
to  the  skin  in  a  few  minutes.  It  was  a  cold,  chilly  rain  which 
lasted  all  day. 

The  army  had  been  retreating  from  a  defeated  enemy  on 
this  road  all  night,  again  leaving  many  of  our  wounded  behind. 
By  the  time  we  reached  Haxall's  and  the  bottom-lands,  we 
found  the  road  in  a  frightful  condition.  Cut  up  as  it  had 
been  by  thousands  of  wagons  and  artillery,  it  was  now  a  liquid 
quagmire  from  the  torrential  rain.  We  tore  down  fences 
and  crossed  fields  to  avoid  some  impassable  places.  We  waded 
through  many  ditches  and  small  streams,  often  knee-deep,  and 
had  many  halts  and  interruptions,  often  coming  to  a  halt  in  a 
part  of  the  road  where  it  was  impossible  to  sit  down  for  a 
much-needed  rest,  unless  we  should  sit  in  mud  nearly  a  foot 
deep.  My  shoes  were  soon  filled  with  gritty  liquid  mud  which 
chafed  the  skin  and  made  marching  very  painful  and  dis- 
tressing. At  one  time  I  just  saved  myself  from  falling,  while 
crossing  a  stream,  and  my  rifle  slipped  from  my  grasp  and 
was  submerged  in  the  muddy  water.  I  doubt  if  I  could  have 
discharged  it  if  I  had  needed  to  do  so. 

I  cannot  describe  our  misery  and  suffering  on  this  day,  the 
seventh  of  the  retreat,  and  by  far  the  worst  of  all.  We  had 
reached  the  limit  of  endurance,  weakened  as  we  were  by 
battles,  marching  and  want  of  food.  We  had  become  callous 
and  cared  little  what  became  of  those  who  dropped  out  from 
exhaustion  or  of  small  squads  of  wounded  men  who  were 
limping  painfully  along  the  road,  sometimes  being  knocked 
down  and  crying  out  in  anguish  for  help.  The  rule  of  self- 
preservation  had  a  deplorable  demonstration  on  this  awful 
day. 

Several  times  we  formed  line  of  battle  in  the  fields,  ready 
to  repel  the  enemy  who  pursued  and  harassed  the  rear  guard 
just  behind  us.  Stuart's  Rebel  cavalry  and  a  light  battery  of 
artillery  followed  us  all  day  and  occasionally  sent  a  few  shells 
into  our  ranks.  We  also  had  cavalry  with  the  rear  guard  who 

252 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

skirmished  with  the  enemy,  and  a  battery  of  regular  artillery 
which  more  than  once  took  up  a  commanding  position  beside 
the  road  and  with  our  cavalry  kept  the  enemy  in  check.  Dur- 
ing the  forenoon,  while  at  a  long  halt,  I  gave  Lieutenant 
McLoughlin,  who  now  commanded  my  company  (and  the 
only  company  officer  present  at  this  time,  Lieutenant  Kidd  hav- 
ing been  wounded)  a  drink  of  whiskey  from  my  canteen  and 
he  declared  I  had  saved  his  life.  He  laughed  when  I  explained 
how  I  had  got  it,  but  remarked  that  I  was  lucky  not  to  have 
been  caught.  I  took  a  big  drink  myself  which  cheered  me,  wet 
and  shivering  as  I  was ;  the  remainder  I  doled  out  to  my  com- 
rades, as  far  as  it  would  go,  and  for  that  day  at  least  I  was 
the  most  popular  member  of  the  company. 

We  reached  Harrison's  Landing  while  it  was  still  daylight. 
Although  the  distance  was  not  more  than  about  eight  miles, 
it  had  taken  us  twelve  hours  to  make  it  owing  to  the  state  of 
the  roads,  the  frequent  halts  and  the  forming  of  line  of  battle 
several  times  during  the  day.  We  halted  at  the  edge  of  an 
immense  wheat  field  which  I  think  must  have  been  a  mile 
square.  Only  a  small  part  of  this  field  had  been  cut  and 
stacked  in  sheaves.  It  still  rained  hard.  My  bunkie  and  I 
decided  to  put  up  our  shelter  tent  for  the  first  time  in  seven 
days.  We  gathered  a  thick  layer  of  the  wet  sheaves  and  lay 
down  in  our  wet  clothing,  sleeping  soundly  all  night.  We 
could  not  make  any  coffee,  but  were  surprised  and  cheered  by 
an  issue  of  hard-tack  and  a  gill  of  whiskey  during  the  evening 
and  the  promise  of  some  meat  on  the  morrow;  which  was  a 
great  comfort  to  us  in  our  despondent  condition. 

Next  morning,  July  third,  directly  after  reveille,  a  Rebel 
battery  commenced  throwing  shells  into  our  camp  from  a 
hill  which  overlooked  it.  We  formed  line  of  battle,  advanced 
a  short  distance  and  remained  under  arms  until  the  firing 
ceased  in  a  short  time,  the  battery  being  driven  away  and  the 
hill  occupied  by  a  Maine  regiment.  This  was  the  finish  of 
the  seven  days'  retreat,  or  "change  of  base,"  as  General  Mc- 
Clellan  preferred  to  name  it.  No  large  body  of  the  Rebel 
Army  had  followed  us  from  Malvern  Hill,  where  they  had 

253 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.  S.  ARMY 

received  such  a  crushing  blow  that  they  retired  within  the 
fortifications  of  Richmond  to  recuperate,  leaving  only  small 
reconnoitering  parties  to  observe  us. 

After  the  firing  had  ceased  and  while  we  were  still  standing 
in  ranks,  a  private  of  my  company  stepped  into  the  bushes  just 
behind  us  and  presently  we  heard  a  shot ;  and  he  came  running 
out,  holding  up  a  bleeding  hand  and  crying,  "I  am  wounded. 
Take  me  to  the  hospital !"  But  he  ran  so  fast,  it  would  have 
been  hard  to  catch  him.  We  found  his  rifle  in  the  bushes, 
apparently  just  discharged,  which  left  no  doubt  that  this  was  a 
case  of  self-mutilation,  fortunately  of  rare  occurrence,  so 
far  as  I  knew ;  but  I  heard  of  a  few  cases  where  the  mutilation 
took  place  during  battle.  This  soldier  never  rejoined  his 
company,  which  was  well  for  him.  The  fear  of  the  contempt 
of  his  comrades  is  even  more  powerful  a  factor  than  disci- 
pline in  keeping  a  timid  or  nerveless  soldier  in  the  ranks  dur- 
ing battle. 

As  we  looked  at  each  other  while  in  ranks,  we  were  amazed 
at  the  shocking  appearance  both  officers  and  rank  and  file  pre- 
sented after  the  strenuous  week  we  had  passed  through.  Our 
clothing  was  torn  and  shapeless  and  coated  with  sticky  mud 
from  head  to  foot ;  our  faces  and  hands  were  grimy  with 
powder  and  dirt,  for  few  had  had  opportunity  to  wash  them- 
selves for  a  week.  Several  who  were  slightly  wounded  wore 
bandages.  Our  guns  were  rusty  but  serviceable.  Some  had 
lost  their  knapsacks  and  some  a  part  of  their  accoutrements, 
and  upon  all  the  faces  there  was  a  gaunt  and  weary  look  which 
plainly  told  the  story  of  our  endurance.  Of  the  great  field  of 
wheat  which  I  had  seen  the  evening  before,  scarcely  any  re- 
mained that  had  not  been  trampled  down  during  the  night 
by  soldiers  and  horses. 

The  rain  had  ceased,  but  the  sky  was  still  clouded  and  the 
day  cheerless.  During  the  forenoon  we  marched  to  a  point 
within  about  a  mile  and  a  half  of  Harrison's  Landing  and 
the  brigade  encamped  on  low  ground  on  the  border  of  a 
sluggish  and  boggy  creek,  where  we  were  destined  to  remain 
for  many  weeks  sweltering  under  the  great  heat  of  the  summer. 

254 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

The  first  advance  upon  Richmond  had  failed,  as  did  also 
the  second  under  General  Grant  two  years  later,  when  he 
operated  on  substantially  the  same  ground  against  the  same 
enemy  reduced  in  number  and  resources.  Military  writers  and 
historians  have  accused  General  McClellan  of  grave  errors  in 
the  Peninsula  Campaign ;  but  some  of  them  accuse  the  Admin- 
istration at  Washington,  together  with  the  Joint  Committee 
of  Congress  on  the  conduct  of  the  war,  of  graver  errors  and 
blame  them  as  being  the  real  cause  for  the  unsuccessful  ter- 
mination of  this  campaign.  That  the  Army  of  the  Potomac, 
made  up  of  as  fine  and  intelligent  soldiers  as  ever  took  the 
field,  remained  as  true  and  loyal  to  its  commander  after  this 
campaign  as  it  had  been  before,  proved  beyond  question  that 
it  had  not  lost  confidence  in  him. 

The  "retreat"  to  the  James  river  was  not  a  retreat  in  the 
usual  sense  of  the  word;  we  kept  our  formation,  all  our 
movements  were  directed  by  General  McClellan  and  there  never 
was  a  rout.  We  fought  daily  battles  in  all  of  which,  except 
that  of  Gaines's  Mill,  we  were  successful  in  checking  the  enemy 
and  keeping  them  at  bay  until  a  new  position  was  gained.  We 
lost  none  of  our  artillery,  except  in  battle,  and  we  saved  all 
of  our  heavy  siege  guns  and  our  immense  wagon-train  pre- 
ceded the  army.  All  this  was  done  in  an  unknown,  swampy 
country  with  few  roads  upon  which  a  great  army  could  march 
and  make  any  rapid  progress,  even  if  unpursued  by  a  deter- 
mined enemy.  The  enemy's  losses  in  the  seven  days'  battles 
were  greater  than  ours  by  nearly  four  thousand  men,  according 
to  authorities. 

The  battle  of  Gaines's  Mill,  although  not  ranking  as  one  of 
the  great  battles  of  the  war,  was  remarkable,  being  the  one  with 
the  greatest  disparity  in  numbers.  When  the  battle  commenced 
General  Porter  had  only  the  Fifth  Army  Corps,  consisting  of 
less  than  twenty  thousand  men,  to  oppose  double  their  number, 
and  it  was  not  until  late  in  the  afternoon  that  Slocum's  division 
of  seven  thousand  reinforced  him.  For  four  hours  the  power- 
ful enemy  tried  in  vain  to  break  our  lines  and  it  was  not  until 
near  sundown  that,  reinforced  by  General  Jackson's  troops, 

255 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

augmenting  their  numbers  to  more  than  sixty-five  thousand, 
against  our  less  than  thirty  thousand  actually  engaged,  they 
succeeded  in  breaking  our  line  in  the  center ;  and  when  darkness 
ended  the  battle  they  had  only  advanced  as  far  as  the  ground 
previously  occupied  by  our  reserves.  The  losses  of  the  Fifth 
Army  Corps  during  the  seven  days  were  about  seventy-six 
hundred,  of  whom  forty-eight  hundred  were  killed  and 
wounded  and  twenty-eight  hundred  captured  or  missing.  My 
battalion,  consisting  of  six  companies  of  the  Second  United 
States  Infantry,  about  three  hundred  and  fifty  present  for 
duty,  lost  two  officers  who  were  killed  and  four  wounded; 
fourteen  soldiers  killed,  one  hundred  and  three  wounded,  and 
sixteen  captured  or  missing — total,  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
nine,  more  than  one-third  of  our  number. 

I  had  no  clear  idea  at  the  time  of  the  distance  the  army  had 
covered  during  the  seven  days'  retreat  and  I  was  astonished 
when  twenty  years  later  I  made  the  trip  with  a  friend  from 
Richmond  to  Haxall's,  following  the  route  of  the  army  in  a 
single  day,  and  had  sufficient  time  to  take  a  number  of  photo- 
graphs. We  had  a  carriage  and  a  pair  of  good  horses.  The 
coachman  was  black,  but  his  name  was  White.  We  remained 
on  Malvern  Hill  until  dark,  when  we  went  to  Haxall's  to  spend 
the  night,  much  to  the  relief  of  Charlie  White,  who  showed 
great  terror  as  we  passed  through  the  dark  and  gloomy  woods 
on  our  route  which  he  said  were  full  of  ghosts.  He  declared 
that  "sodjer  ghosts"  marched  on  this  road  until  daylight. 

In  my  narration  of  events  which  occurred  during  McClellan's 
Peninsular  Campaign  I  have  tried  to  describe  in  detail  a 
soldier's  experience  in  camp,  on  the  march,  in  battle  and  when 
retreating  before  a  pursuing  foe,  as  accurately  as  my  memory 
permits  after  an  interval  of  more  than  fifty  years.  I  consider 
that  campaign  unsurpassed  in  hardship,  suffering  and  endur- 
ance by  any  subsequent  campaign  while  I  was  in  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac,  unless  perhaps  it  be  the  battle  of  Fredericksburg 
and  General  Burnside's  "Mud-March,"  both  of  which  occurred 
in  winter  time.  I  therefore  deem  it  superfluous  to  burden  the 
remainder  of  my  narrative  with  similar  details. 

256 


PART  XI. 

HARRISON'S  LANDING  TO   FREDERICKSBURG,  VA. — 1862-1863. 

THE  part  of  the  camp  at  Harrison's  Landing  occupied 
by  our  brigade  was,  I  think,  the  most  unhealthy  spot 
in  which  I  had  ever  camped.  The  weather  had  become 
intensely  hot  and  water  fit  to  drink  was  difficult  to  obtain  from 
a  poor  spring,  at  which  crowds  stood  in  line  waiting  for  a 
chance  to  fill  their  canteens.  The  water  of  the  boggy  creek  was 
soon  contaminated  and  the  sinking  of  barrels  and  cracker  boxes 
at  its  edge  had  but  little  effect  in  purifying  it.  Nearly  a  third  of 
our  men  were  soon  sick  with  miasma  and  swamp  fever;  the 
hospitals  were  over-crowded  and  the  mortality  high.  Every 
morning  and  evening  we  heard  the  dead  march. 

Our  second  day  in  this  camp  was  the  Fourth  of  July,  and 
General  McClellan  caused  a  salute  to  be  fired  at  noon  at  each 
army  corps  headquarters.  In  the  afternoon  he  reviewed  us 
and  his  address  to  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  read  to  us  on 
parade.  A  few  days  later  President  Lincoln  visited  the  camp 
and  held  a  review  in  the  cool  of  the  evening.  He  was  enthusi- 
astically cheered. 

About  this  time  I  became  very  ill  and  had  to  report  to  the 
regimental  surgeon,  who  wanted  to  send  me  to  the  hospital; 
but  I  did  not  want  to  go  there  among  so  many  sick  and  dying 
men  and  remained  for  a  few  days  in  my  tent,  over  which  we 
had  built  an  arbor,  which  was  of  little  use,  however,  as  the 
camp  was  exposed  to  the  torrid  sun.  I  became  very  weak.  A 
kind  comrade  assisted  me  from  camp  to  the  creek,  about  a 
hundred  yards  away,  where  he  spread  my  blanket  and  I  lay 
there  under  the  shade  of  a  tree  all  day,  until  he  helped  me  back 
to  camp  at  night.  It  was  better  than  remaining  in  the  little 
shelter  tent;  but  I  was  so  miserable  that  I  cared  very  little 
whether  I  lived  or  died. 

257 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.  S.  ARMY 

The  sick  and  wounded  of  the  volunteers  had  a  "sanitary 
commission/'  supported  by  the  various  states,  which  furnished 
nurses,  supplies  and  delicacies  that  the  army  could  not  provide. 
The  regulars,  when  in  their  own  hospitals,  received  no  such 
attention;  they  had  to  get  along  on  soldiers'  rations,  if  they 
could  eat  them.  At  this  camp  we  had  company  cooks.  My 
comrade  brought  me  rice  soup  from  our  kitchen,  and  on  that 
and  some  soft  crackers  and  condensed  milk,  bought  at  the 
sutler's,  I  managed  to  keep  alive.  In  about  ten  days  I  began 
to  improve,  but  was  greatly  emaciated,  and  it  was  well  towards 
the  end  of  July  before  I  could  take  my  place  in  the  ranks  again. 

One  of  our  first  lieutenants  and  two  second  lieutenants,  all 
civilian  appointees,  who  had  not  shown  themselves  at  any  of 
the  recent  battles  the  regiment  had  been  engaged  in,  turned  up 
at  Harrison's  Landing  and  were  promptly  arrested.  They  were 
tried  by  court-martial  and  cashiered  on  July  twenty-first,  1862. 
I  believe  two  of  them  succeeded  in  getting  back  into  the  army 
early  in  1863,  and  one — the  first  lieutenant — redeemed  himself 
by  being  killed  at  Gettysburg.  I  shall  not  mention  the  names 
of  these  valiant  officers ;  they  are  recorded  in  the  official  Army 
Register  of  1862-'63. 

We  had  been  in  camp  about  a  week  when  we  were  surprised 
by  the  reappearance  of  the  captain  of  our  company,  whom  we 
had  left  in  Georgetown  four  months  before  with  a  medical 
excuse  from  field  duty.  He  was  more  corpulent  and  his  face 
was  more  florid  than  ever.  He  brought  with  him  some  cases, 
containing  a  variety  of  liquors,  which  he  charged  his  servant 
to  guard  very  carefully  when  he  was  absent  from  his  tent — 
which  was  seldom,  as  he  performed  no  duties.  Few  of  our 
officers  paid  any  attention  to  him  or  visited  him  in  his  tent, 
with  the  exception  of  the  three  lieutenants  under  arrest;  they 
were  his  chums  and  boon  companions  from  morning  till  night. 
My  tent  was  within  ear-shot  of  the  captain's  and  when  I  lay 
there  while  sick  or  convalescent  I  could  not  help  hearing  their 
loud  talk  while  they  were  carousing — a  daily  occurrence.  They 
fought  the  seven  days'  battles  all  over  again,  the  captain  bewail- 
ing the  ill  health  which  had  kept  him  from  the  active  service 

258 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

which  he  so  ardently  desired.  Had  he  been  in  charge  of  the 
brigade  he  would  have  formed  an  oblique  square  and  in  that 
form  he  would  have  charged  upon  the  enemy  at  a  double- 
quick.  He  demonstrated  to  the  entire  satisfaction  of  his  audit- 
ors that  the  impact  of  the  sharp  corner  of  the  oblique  square 
could  not  have  failed  to  break  the  enemy's  center,  while  the 
two  sides  of  the  square  would  have  brushed  away  their  right 
and  left  wings  and  caused  them  to  be  annihilated  by  our  fire. 
He  admitted  that  such  a  bold  movement  could  be  successfully 
executed  only  with  reliable  troops  like  the  regulars,  if  led  by 
an  officer  who  was  a  tactician  able  to  conceive  such  a  daring 
attack.  At  times  the  officers  under  arrest  became  maudlin  and 
with  tearful  voices  lamented  their  hard  luck  in  being  under 
arrest,  when  the  captain  would  cheer  them  by  saying,  "Gentle- 
men, I  know  you  are  all  brave  men ;  trust  in  me,  I  will  see  you 
vindicated!  What  will  you  take  now?" 

This  went  on  until  the  three  officers  were  cashiered  and  left 
camp. 

One  night  soon  after  the  Rebels  shelled  the  camp  at  Harri- 
son's Landing  and  there  were  rumors  of  another  advance  on 
Richmond.  The  captain  hastily  departed  with  bag  and  bag- 
gage, leaving  only  the  empty  cases  behind.  This  time  we  were 
rid  of  him  for  good;  he  was  retired  for  disability  (  !)  August 
twenty-seventh,  1862,  and  we  never  saw  him  again.  John  S. 
Poland  now  became  captain  of  my  company.  He  had  been 
graduated  from  the  West  Point  Military  Academy  and  was  a 
very  efficient  officer.  The  departure  of  our  captain,  the  dis- 
missal of  the  three  lieutenants,  a  few  transfers  and  some  pro- 
motions from  the  ranks,  left  us  with  a  better  lot  of  officers — 
men  whom  the  rank  and  file  could  respect. 

We  were  much  in  need  of  clothing,  particularly  shoes,  and 
these  were  issued  to  us  while  at  Harrison's  Landing;  also  the 
medical  department  ordered  whiskey  and  quinine  occasionally 
as  a  prevention  against  malarial  fever,  as  had  been  done  while 
we  were  on  the  Chickahominy.  Most  of  the  soldiers  would 
have  preferred  to  take  this  dose  unmixed,  dispensing  with  the 
quinine. 

259 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

We  had  regular  drum  and  bugle  calls  and  bands  played  in 
the  evening  at  this  camp.  Promotions  took  place  among  the 
soldiers — I  was  made  a  sergeant,  the  youngest  sergeant  in  the 
regiment  at  that  time. 

Shortly  after  midnight  on  August  first  a  heavy  fire  from 
field  pieces  on  the  south  side  of  the  James,  which  quickly 
aroused  the  entire  army,  was  opened  on  our  camps  and  the 
many  vessels  in  the  river.  Our  batteries  at  the  river  opened  fire ; 
so  did  the  gun-boats.  For  more  than  half  an  hour  there  was  a 
tremendous  noise  of  guns  and  exploding  shells,  when  the 
Rebel  batteries  suddenly  ceased  firing.  None  of  the  shells 
reached  us,  but  ten  men  were  killed  and  fifteen  wounded  in  the 
camps  nearer  the  river;  the  shipping  received  only  trifling 
damage. 

Next  day  troops  were  sent  across  the  river,  my  regiment 
among  them.  We  crossed  on  a  steamboat,  near  noon ;  deployed 
as  skirmishers  on  the  other  side;  advanced  up  a  hill  through 
some  woods  and  came  upon  a  meadow  where  the  Rebel  guns 
had  been  placed,  commanding  our  camp  and  the  river,  but 
screened  by  the  woods.  It  was  possible  to  locate  the  guns  and 
count  them.  There  were  forty-one  of  them.  Some  artillery 
ammunition  was  scattered  about  and  we  noticed  large  holes  in 
the  ground  near-by,  made  by  shells  from  our  gunboats. 

The  day  was  very  hot.  We  lay  in  the  shade  of  the  woods 
and  I  was  taking  a  nap  when  I  was  awakened  and  ordered  to 
take  six  men  and  examine  a  piece  of  wood  land  on  our  right, 
for  half  a  mile  or  more,  and  then  return  and  report.  I  started 
with  my  little  squad  at  a  "trail  arms,"  the  guns  at  half-cock. 
There  was  much  underbrush  and  we  advanced  cautiously  for 
nearly  half  a  mile,  when  I  heard  a  noise  and  thought  I  caught 
a  glimpse  of  a  man  in  a  gray  uniform,  trying  to  hide  behind  a 
tree  only  a  short  distance  away.  I  made  a  sign  to  my  squad  to 
halt  and  advancing  a  little  nearer  brought  the  gun  to  my 
shoulder  at  full  cock,  when  I  challenged  and  was  immediately 
answered,  "Friend  of  the  Sixth  Infantry !"  as  the  man  stepped 
from  behind  the  tree.  He  was  dressed  in  a  gray  woolen  shirt, 
having  left  off  his  blue  blouse  on  account  of  the  heat.  I 

260 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

frightened  him  when  I  explained  how  near  he  had  come  to 
being  shot  on  account  of  his  gray  shirt.  He  belonged  to  another 
party  examining  the  woods  from  a  different  direction.  I  made 
my  way  back  to  my  command,  diverging  somewhat  from  the 
way  we  had  come.  In  a  clearing  we  found  six  fine  cows 
grazing  which  we  drove  towards  our  party.  They  were  kept 
and  turned  over  to  the  commissary  later  on.  We  noticed  some 
Rebel  cavalry  on  high  ground  a  mile  or  more  away  watching  us, 
but  they  did  not  venture  any  nearer. 

The  place  where  we  had  landed  was  called  Coggin's  Point. 
We  were  on  part  of  a  large  plantation,  the  property  of  a  prom- 
inent secessionist.  There  was  a  large  house  within  view, 
called  the  Cole  house,  which  was  ordered  to  be  destroyed  and 
was  set  fire  to  by  another  detachment.  We  re-crossed  the  river 
about  sundown  and  returned  to  our  camp.  General  McClellan 
ordered  Coggin's  Point  to  be  occupied  and  field  works  con- 
structed to  prevent  a  recurrence  of  a  bombardment  from  the 
south  side  of  the  James. 

About  August  fourth  General  Hooker  made  a  strong  recon- 
noissance  in  the  direction  of  Richmond  and  drove  a  Rebel  force 
from  Malvern  Hill.  There  were  rumors  of  a  campaign  and  the 
authorities  at  Washington  and  the  Northern  journals  united  in 
urging  General  McClellan  to  become  active.  The  sick  and 
wounded,  more  than  ten  thousand  of  them,  were  being  shipped 
North  as  fast  as  water  transportation  could  be  provided  for 
them,  and  we  supposed  that  another  attempt  to  capture  Rich- 
mond would  be  made.  We  were  disagreeably  surprised  when 
we  learned  later  that  we  were  to  reinforce  General  Pope  north 
of  the  Rappahannock  river,  whom  "Stonewall"  Jackson  had 
hopelessly  bewildered  by  his  rapid  movements. 

The  commands  of  Generals  Freemont  and  Banks  had  been 
withdrawn  from  the  Shenandoah  Valley  when  "Stonewall" 
Jackson  gave  them  the  slip  in  June  and  by  forced  marches 
reached  Richmond  to  take  part  in  the  seven  days'  battles.  These 
two  commands  were  consolidated  with  that  of  General  Mc- 
Dowell to  form  the  Army  of  Virginia,  which  was  to  operate 
between  Washington  and  Richmond  for  the  protection  of  the 

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TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

capitol.  General  Halleck  called  General  John  Pope  from  the 
West,  with  the  approval  of  the  President,  to  take  command  of 
the  Army  of  Virginia,  although  he  was  out-ranked  by  both 
McDowell  and  Freemont.  General  Freemont,  unwilling  to 
serve  under  Pope,  promptly  resigned  his  command.  When 
General  Pope  took  command  he  addressed  a  proclamation  to 
the  Army  of  Virginia  in  which  he  expressed  his  contempt  for 
certain  phrases  he  found  much  in  vogue,  such  as  "bases  of 
supplies"  and  "lines  of  retreat" — phrases  which  he  enjoined  his 
army  to  discard,  as  unworthy  of  soldiers  destined  to  follow  the 
leadership  of  one  "who  came  from  the  West  and  had  never 
seen  anything  but  the  backs  of  his  enemies." 

This  bombastic  and  arrogant  nonsense  was  a  satire  pointed 
at  General  McClellan.  Alas  for  Pope !  Less  than  two  months 
after  he  took  command  the  enemy  saw  his  back  and  his  heels 
as  well.  He  was  shelved  to  the  command  of  an  unimportant 
department  in  the  West  and  cut  no  further  figure  in  the  war. 
The  Northern  papers  made  much  of  him  and  his  proclamation, 
but  the  soldiers  had  a  clearer  insight  into  his  character  and 
ability  as  the  commander  of  a  great  army.  He  became  known 
among  them  by  the  sobriquet  of  "Headquarters  in  the  Saddle." 

The  Fifth  Army  Corps  was  the  First  to  leave  Harrison's 
Landing.  On  the  afternoon  of  the  fourteenth  of  August 
Sykes's  division  received  orders  to  strike  their  tents  and  pre- 
pare to  march  to  Newport  News,  Virginia.  We  left  our  camp 
about  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  and  marched  all  night,  resting 
only  about  two  hours  at  midnight.  Some  time  during  the  fore- 
noon of  the  next  day  we  reached  the  Chickahominy,  and  cross- 
ing it  by  a  pontoon  bridge  about  a  thousand  feet  long,  went  into 
bivouac.  The  following  morning  we  started  again  at  daybreak, 
and  passing  through  Williamsburg  and  Yorktown,  we  reached 
Newport  News  on  the  fourth  day,  the  eighteenth,  remaining 
there  for  two  days  awaiting  transportation.  There  we  had  salt 
water  bathing  in  the  James  river,  which  was  very  refreshing 
after  the  hot  and  dusty  march.  We  were  hurried  along  and 
made  rather  long  marches.  I  had  not  recovered  my  full 
strength  after  my  illness  at  Harrison's  Landing,  but  I  managed 

262 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

to  keep  up  by  lightening  my  burden.  I  threw  away  my  knap- 
sack and  part  of  my  clothing,  made  a  roll  of  the  blanket  and 
shelter  tent,  wrapping  up  in  it  a  change  of  underclothing  and 
socks,  and  slung  the  roll  over  my  shoulder.  I  put  on  my  new- 
est shoes  and  threw  the  others  away.  All  this  made  marching 
easier  for  me.  Many  of  my  comrades  did  the  same. 

On  August  twentieth  we  embarked  on  a  steamboat  along 
with  other  troops  for  Aquia  Creek  on  the  Potomac  and  had  the 
usual  overcrowded  and  uncomfortable  experience.  We  arrived 
on  the  twenty-second  and  were  a  long  time  getting  ashore  by 
tugs.  There  was  a  railroad  to  Fredericksburg,  less  than  twenty 
miles  away,  and  we  were  tumbled  into  empty  freight  cars  and 
upon  platform  cars  and  taken  to  Falmouth  Station,  near 
Fredericksburg,  where  we  disembarked  in  the  evening  and 
bivouacked. 

Next  day,  after  receiving  some  rations,  we  started  our  march 
up  the  north  bank  of  the  Rappahannock  in  the  direction  of 
Pope's  army.  The  other  corps  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac 
went  up  the  Potomac  river  as  far  as  Alexandria,  which  gave 
them  only  half  so  long  a  march  to  join  Pope,  as  the  Fifth  Corps 
had  had  from  Falmouth.  General  McClellan  accompanied  the 
main  part  of  the  Army  to  Alexandria. 

Our  march  up  the  Rappahannock  and  along  the  line  of  the 
Orange  and  Alexandria  railroad  by  the  way  of  Bealton,  Cat- 
lett's  and  Bristoe  Stations  to  Manassas  was  a  severe  one.  The 
heat  was  so  excessive  that  a  man  in  my  company  declared  "the 
sun  must  be  in  the  hydraulics !"  Parts  of  the  country  seemed 
to  be  destitute  of  water,  which  caused  us  great  suffering,  and 
many  were  overcome  and  dropped  by  the  wayside.  We  did 
not  have  the  muddy  roads  of  the  Peninsula,  but  we  had  an 
intolerable  amount  of  dust  which  hung  in  great  clouds  over 
the  marching  columns  and  betrayed  the  movements  of  the 
opposing  armies.  As  we  neared  Bristoe  Station,  where  a 
stretch  of  the  railroad  had  been  torn  up  by  the  Rebels,  we 
began  to  hear  cannonading. 

On  the  morning  of  the  twenty-ninth  we  started  at  daybreak 
for  Centreville,  passing  Manassas  Junction,  where  we  saw  the 

263 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

ruins  of  locomotives,  cars  and  immense  quantities  of  rations 
and  military  stores  totally  destroyed  by  fire  a  few  days  before 
when  Jackson's  army  had  slipped  around  the  bewildered  Gen- 
eral Pope's  right  and  got  in  his  rear,  between  him  and  Wash- 
ington. 

We  had  only  just  passed  Manassas  when  we  were  ordered 
to  face  about  and  march  in  the  direction  from  which  we  had 
come  on  the  Warrenton  Pike  towards  Gainsville.  Before 
reaching  there  some  of  Longstreet's  troops  were  encountered 
about  noon,  concealed  in  the  woods  near  the  Manassas  railroad. 
We  took  up  a  position  near  Bethlehem  Church,  massed  in  the 
rear  of  the  First  Division  as  a  reserve.  Later  in  the  afternoon 
very  heavy  firing  was  heard  some  miles  away  to  our  right, 
where  the  battle  of  Groveton  was  being  fought.  We  had  a 
strong  force  of  skirmishers  out ;  so  did  the  enemy.  There  was 
much  firing  between  them  until  dark  and  some  movements  as 
though  we  were  forming  for  an  attack,  with  the  object  of 
preventing  Longstreet  from  sending  reinforcements  to  Jackson 
at  Groveton,  but  nothing  came  of  it  and  we  remained  in  our 
position  until  daybreak,  August  thirtieth.  The  last  issue  of 
rations  had  been,  I  think,  at  Warrenton  Junction;  we  were 
nearly  out,  in  fact  had  lived  on  half-rations  for  the  last  day. 
During  this  night  we  received  a  small  allowance  of  hard-tack 
and  nothing  else. 

On  the  morning  of  the  thirtieth  we  marched  by  way  of  the 
Warrenton  Pike  in  the  direction  of  yesterday's  battle  and  took 
up  a  position  about  noon  near  the  center  in  a  cornfield  not  far 
from  the  Pike,  my  brigade  forming  the  reserve  in  rear  of  the 
First  Brigade.  We  were  soon  under  a  heavy  fire  of  shells 
from  the  Rebel  batteries  which  kept  up  with  more  or  less  vigor 
until  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  when  the  real  battle  com- 
menced with  General  Butterfield's  attack  on  the  enemy,  strongly 
posted  in  a  railroad  cut  towards  the  right.  Historians  have 
described  this  bloody  battle  and  how,  about  sundown,  our  army 
was  out-flanked  and  forced  to  retreat.  It  was  about  this  time 
that  Sykes's  regulars  were  ordered  to  retreat  and  did  so  in 
good  order  towards  the  Henry  house  plateau,  which  command- 

264 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

ed  the  road  by  which  the  army  was  retreating  in  some  disorder, 
towards  the  stone  bridge  over  Bull  Run.  Sykes's  regulars 
assisted  by  some  volunteer  regiments  checked  Longstreet's 
pursuit. 

Here  for  the  first  time  on  that  day  my  brigade  became 
engaged  with  the  enemy  at  the  edge  of  some  timber  through 
which  they  were  advancing.  For  nearly  an  hour  we  held  our 
ground,  delivering  heavy  volleys  until  we  were  out-flanked, 
forced  to  retire,  and  the  fight  continued  by  other  troops. 

General  Warren's  Third  Brigade,  consisting  of  the  Fifth  and 
Tenth  New  York,  about  one  thousand  strong,  had  earlier  in 
the  evening,  in  an  isolated  position,  sustained  the  first  onslaught 
of  overwhelming  numbers  of  Longstreet's  troops.  In  less  than 
fifteen  minutes  this  small  brigade  sustained  a  loss  of  more  than 
four  hundred  killed  and  wounded,  the  Duryee  Zouaves  alone 
losing  two  hundred  and  ninety-seven  men,  a  greater  loss  than 
that  of  any  other  regiment  in  this  battle.  During  the  two  days 
my  small  regiment  lost  sixty-six  killed  and  wounded  and, 
singular  to  relate,  only  one  officer  and  one  private  were  killed 
outright;  seven  others,  however,  were  missing  and  we  did  not 
know  what  had  become  of  them.  The  first  sergeant  of  my 
company,  Rudolph  Thieme,  was  among  the  missing,  but  no 
one  had  seen  him  fall.  A  small  detail  from  my  regiment, 
which  under  a  flag  of  truce  recovered  Lieutenant  Kidd's  body, 
failed  to  find  that  of  the  sergeant,  who  was  an  old  soldier  and 
expected  soon  to  be  commissioned.  The  mystery  of  his  dis- 
appearance was  never  solved. 

When  darkness  came  upon  us  and  the  firing  ceased,  except 
for  a  few  shots  here  and  there,  the  second  battle  of  Bull  Run 
was  over.  We  marched  by  way  of  the  Pike  to  the  Stone 
Bridge,  where  we  found  an  indescribable  scene  of  confusion. 
Ambulances,  artillery,  army  wagons,  sutlers,  wounded  soldiers 
and  stragglers  were  all  crowding  towards  the  narrow  bridge, 
colliding  with  organized  bodies  of  marching  troops  and  destroy- 
ing their  formation.  Slowly  and  with  great  difficulty  we 
crossed  and  re-formed  on  the  other  side,  taking  up  our  march 
to  Centreville  and  keeping  off  the  road  as  much  as  possible  to 

265 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

avoid  the  confusion  there.  To  add  to  our  misery  a  steady  rain 
had  commenced  after  dark  and  kept  up  all  night.  The  retreat 
continued  until  daylight,  when  the  bridge  was  blown  up.  We 
reached  Centreville  about  midnight  when,  tired  and  exhausted, 
we  lay  on  the  wet  ground  and  slept  until  morning. 

Able  writers  and  critics  have  pointed  out  the  monumental 
blunders  of  General  Pope  which  nearly  caused  the  destruction 
of  his  army,  and  the  advantageous  opportunities  he  failed  to 
grasp,  particularly  where  Lee  divided  his  army  by  sending 
Jackson  to  Manassas  in  his  rear.  They  also  show  his  vindict- 
iveness  towards  the  meritorious  General  Porter,  who  was 
cashiered  after  the  Antietam  campaign,  but  established  his 
innocence  after  a  struggle  which  lasted  for  many  years  and  was 
restored  to  the  army. 

During  the  active  part  of  this  campaign  General  McClellan 
was  detained,  by  order  of  General  Halleck,  at  Alexandria  and 
ordered  to  forward  his  troops  as  fast  as  they  arrived  from 
Harrison's  Landing  to  join  Pope's  army.  This  he  did  and  they 
had  all  joined  us  in  time  to  take  part  in  the  battles  of  Groveton 
and  the  second  Bull  Run,  except  Franklin's  and  Sumner's  corps, 
who  were  still  on  the  march.  General  McClellan  then  found 
himself  in  the  singular  position  of  a  commanding  general 
stripped  of  his  army,  with  nothing  but  a  few  orderlies  and 
small  camp  guard.  General  Pope  had  sent  a  very  favorably 
colored  report  of  the  second  Battle  of  Bull  Run  to  General 
Halleck;  but  the  next  day  Colonel  J.  C.  Kelton,  A.  A.  G., 
was  sent  from  the  War  Department  to  Pope's  army,  and  upon 
his  return  on  September  second  reported  the  true  condition  of 
affairs,  which  alarmed  the  President  and  Cabinet  and  terrified 
the  city  of  Washington.  Pope's  army  was  ordered  to  retreat 
immediately  within  the  fortifications  of  Washington  for  the 
protection  of  the  city.  The  administration  now  turned  toward 
McClellan  again  and  placed  him  in  command  of  the  defenses  of 
Washington  and  the  troops  of  Pope's  defeated  army  as  they 
arrived  within  the  fortifications. 

The  morning  after  the  battle,  August  thirty-first,  during  a 
cold  rain,  we  were  marched  within  the  old  Confederate  works 

266 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

at  Centreville  and  encamped  there.  The  day  was  quiet,  but 
toward  night  there  was  a  rumor  that  a  part  of  the  Rebel  army 
was  on  the  move  to  turn  our  right  and  intersperse  between  us 
and  Washington.  Next  morning  two  army  corps  were  ordered 
to  march  in  the  direction  of  Chantilly,  where  that  afternoon  a 
severe  battle  was  fought  which  resulted  in  a  victory  for  the 
Union  arms.  Among  our  losses  was  the  daring  one-armed 
General  Kearney,  one  of  the  bravest  officers  in  our  army. 

It  was  a  race  now  to  see  which  army  would  get  to  Washing- 
ton first.  We  could  hear  the  firing  at  Chantilly  and,  while  it 
was  still  going  on  the  Fifth  Corps  received  orders  to  proceed 
to  Fairfax  Court  House  in  a  hurry.  After  a  weary  night- 
march  we  arrived  there  on  the  morning  of  September  second 
and  went  into  bivouac.  The  following  morning  we  resumed 
our  march,  taking  the  road  towards  Washington.  The  enemy 
was  close  on  our  flank  and  there  was  some  skirmishing  just 
after  leaving  Fairfax  Court  House.  Late  in  the  afternoon  we 
saw  the  dome  of  the  Capitol  and  kept  on,  weary  with  the  long 
march,  until  after  dark,  when  during  a  halt,  we  heard  loud 
cheering  in  front.  Soon  word  was  passed  along  that  General 
McClellan  had  come  out  to  meet  us,  and  the  cheering  was  taken 
up  by  the  entire  corps.  The  General  had  only  a  very  small 
escort  of  soldiers  and  one  officer  with  him,  but  his  presence 
cheered  us  and  revived  our  depressed  spirits.  We  felt  that 
Washington  was  safe. 

The  Fifth  Corps  encamped  for  several  days  on  Hall's  Hill. 
While  at  this  camp  the  skeleton  battalions  of  the  Second  and 
Tenth  United  States  Infantry  were  consolidated  under  the 
command  of  Captain  Poland  of  the  Second  Infantry,  the  rank- 
ing officer,  and  henceforth  we  were  designated  as  the  Battalion 
of  the  Second  and  Tenth  Infantry;  company  formations  were 
not  interfered  with. 

With  the  arrival  of  the  army  within  the  defenses  of  Wash- 
ington the  enemy  disappeared  and  on  the  fifth  of  September 
were  reported  to  be  crossing  the  Potomac  into  Maryland.  The 
cavalry  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  promptly  started  on 
the  march  and  quickly  followed  by  the  artillery  and  infantry. 

267 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

The  Fifth  Corps  left  on  the  evening  of  the  sixth  and  crossed 
the  Potomac  on  the  Chain  Bridge,  then  marched  by  way  of 
Tennallytown,  Rockville  and  Monocacy  to  Frederick  City, 
where  we  arrived  the  twelfth  of  September.  The  roads  were 
good,  but  very  dusty ;  the  country  was  well  cultivated  and  we 
got  some  fruit  and  plenty  of  green  corn  on  the  way,  roasting 
the  ears  at  our  camp-fires. 

Next  day  our  march  was  across  the  mountains  to  the  Middle- 
town  Valley,  where  we  encamped  near  the  foot  of  South 
Mountain.  We  could  hear  the  guns  at  Harper's  Ferry,  which 
was  besieged  by  Stonewall  Jackson.  On  the  afternoon  and 
evening  of  the  fourteenth  General  Reno  had  a  battle  at  Turner's 
Pass  on  South  Mountain,  part  of  which  was  visible  from  our 
camps.  The  Rebels  were  driven  from  the  mountain  and  re- 
treated toward  Sharpsburg  during  the  night.  General  Reno 
was  killed  near  the  close  of  this  action. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fifteenth  we  crossed  the  Blue  Ridge 
by  the  road  across  South  Mountain  leading  to  Sharpsburg, 
passing  a  part  of  the  battlefield,  where  we  saw  a  number  of 
dead  Confederates  beside  the  road  and  in  the  fields  where  they 
had  fallen  the  evening  before.  In  descending  the  western  slope 
of  the  South  Mountain  we  had  some  fine  views  of  the  valley  of 
the  Antietam,  the  great  fields  of  grain,  orchards  and  farm- 
houses— a  beautiful  picture  of  peace  and  plenty,  soon  to  be 
destroyed  by  the  horrors  of  war.  Our  march  was  toward  the 
Central  Bridge  over  the  Antietam  on  the  pike  leading  to 
Sharpsburg,  where  we  took  up  a  position  on  the  left  of  the 
road.  The  Rebels  had  batteries  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
Antietam  on  high  ground,  which  opened  on  us  as  soon  as  they 
saw  us  approaching;  but  they  did  us  no  damage  and  we  were 
soon  under  cover  where  their  fire  was  returned  by  two  of  our 
batteries. 

The  great  Battle  of  Antietam,  in  which  more  than  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  men  and  some  hundreds  of  pieces  of 
artillery  were  engaged  on  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  days  of 
September,  is  well  described  in  histories  and  was  decidedly  a 
Union  victory.  General  McClellan  is  severely  criticized  for 

268 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

allowing  Lee  and  his  army  to  escape  across  the  Potomac  on 
the  night  of  the  eighteenth,  and  General  Burnside  for  dilly- 
dallying and  delaying  his  attack  on  bridge  number  three,  where 
he  could  not  see  his  glorious  opportunity. 

Porter's  Fifth  Army  Corps  held  an  important  position  in  the 
center  of  the  line  covering  the  reserve  artillery  and  wagon- 
trains  on  the  east  bank  of  the  Antietam.  It  was  here,  in  the 
center,  that  General  McClellan  was  most  anxious  that  his  line 
should  not  be  broken,  and  he  relied  on  General  Porter  for  that. 
The  Fifth  Corps  was  not  engaged  as  a  body  in  this  battle,  but 
some  brigades  were  detached  from  it  at  various  times  to  rein- 
force other  parts  of  the  field.  We  were  much  exposed  to  the 
enemy's  artillery  fire  and  sharp-shooters  at  times.  On  the 
second  day  of  the  battle  my  battalion,  the  Second  and  Tenth, 
were  ordered  to  cross  the  bridge  about  four  P.  M.  to  protect 
some  light  batteries  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Antietam.  We 
deployed  as  skirmishers  to  the  left  of  the  road  and  while  pass- 
ing over  a  ridge  were  fired  at  by  the  Rebel  sharp-shooters  and 
by  a  battery  with  canister  shot.  We  sustained  considerable 
loss  but  kept  on  as  far  as  a  fence,  where  we  halted  and  com- 
menced a  fire  which  soon  caused  the  enemy's  cannoneers  to 
leave  their  guns;  and  although  soon  reinforced  by  a  part  of 
the  First  Brigade,  we  were  not  considered  strong  enough  to 
charge  and  take  this  battery  and  were  ordered  by  one  of  Gen- 
eral Sykes's  aides-de-camp  to  withdraw  from  our  dangerous 
position  to  a  place  of  cover,  where  we  remained  until  sun-down 
and  then  re-crossed  the  bridge  and  returned  to  our  former 
position.  Our  small  battalion  lost  about  fifty  of  its  number, 
killed  and  wounded,  in  this  engagement. 

The  day  after  the  battle  we  remained  quietly  in  our  position. 
The  Rebels,  under  flags  of  truce,  were  picking  up  their 
wounded  and  burying  some  of  their  dead,  while  squads  from 
our  army  performed  the  same  sad  duties. 

At  daybreak  on  the  morning  of  the  nineteenth  it  was  dis- 
covered that  the  enemy  had  departed  during  the  night  and  the 
last  of  their  rear  guard  was  then  crossing  the  Potomac  at 
Shepherdstown  ford.  General  Porter's  Corps  was  ordered  to 

269 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

the  ford.  On  the  way  we  passed  through  a  part  of  the  battle- 
field, which  was  still  strewn  with  Rebel  corpses.  Most  of  them 
had  turned  so  black  that  they  looked  almost  like  negroes  and 
their  heads  and  bodies  had  swollen  to  an  enormous  size.  It 
was  a  horrible  sight.  We  passed  through  the  town  of  Sharps- 
burg  and  beyond  that  through  some  of  the  deserted  Rebel 
camps,  where  fires  were  still  burning  and  there  was  every 
evidence  of  hasty  departure. 

When  we  approached  the  ford  there  was  much  artillery 
firing  from  Rebel  batteries  posted  on  the  hills  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Potomac,  which  was  replied  to  by  some  of  our  batteries. 
Sharp-shooters  were  posted  at  the  river-bank  and  canal,  firing 
at  the  enemy  opposite.  Towards  evening  a  regiment  of  the  First 
Division  and  the  sharp-shooters  crossed  the  river  by  fording 
and  found  a  lodgement  on  the  other  side,  capturing  a  few  guns. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  the  twentieth  our  brigade  and  the 
Fifth  New  York  of  the  Third  Brigade  were  ordered  to  ford 
the  river  and  make  a  reconnaissance  on  the  Charlestown  road. 
General  Sykes  himself  accompanied  the  brigade.  We  deployed 
as  skirmishers,  advanced  about  a  mile  and  halted  in  some 
woods,  when  it  was  discovered  that  a  large  force  of  the  enemy 
was  rapidly  approaching  with  artillery.  General  Sykes  ordered 
the  brigade  to  fall  back  slowly  to  the  bluffs  on  the  river-bank. 
In  the  meantime  Barnes's  Brigade  of  the  First  Division  of  the 
Fifth  Corps  had  also  crossed  the  river  to  go  to  Shepherds- 
town,  but  General  Sykes  ordered  them  to  take  a  position  on  the 
heights  near  where  they  had  crossed,  to  our  right,  where  their 
skirmishers  soon  became  engaged  with  the  approaching  enemy 
and  brought  on  a  spirited  engagement.  General  Sykes,  who 
informed  General  Porter  of  the  large  force  opposed  to  his  two 
small  brigades,  was  ordered  immediately  to  recross  all  the 
troops.  This  we  were  enabled  to  do  in  good  order  by  the  aid 
of  a  number  of  our  batteries,  posted  on  the  heights  on  the 
Maryland  side.  These  batteries  delivered  a  destructive  fire 
over  our  heads  which  kept  the  enemy  from  the  river-bank,  or 
it  would  have  gone  hard  with  us  while  fording  the  river.  Before 
night  all  our  troops  had  recrossed  the  Potomac. 

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TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

This  engagement  at  Shepherdstown  ended  the  Maryland 
campaign.  The  loss  on  our  side  was  about  five  hundred  and, 
with  the  exception  of  nineteen,  was  all  in  General  Barnes's 
brigade.  The  loss  in  my  battalion  was  one  killed  and  two 
wounded.  Later  it  was  learned  that  the  retreating  foe  had 
turned  back  nine  brigades  of  infantry  with  artillery  under 
Generals  Early  and  Hill  to  oppose  us  at  Shepherdstown.  No 
doubt  they  over-estimated  our  numbers  and  thought  we  were 
an  army  corps  instead  of  two  weak  brigades.  We  then  realized 
what  great  peril  we  had  been  in. 

A  daring  act  was  performed  by  First  Sergeant  Daniel  W. 
Burke  of  Company  B,  as  we  re-crossed  the  Potomac.  He 
voluntarily  attempted  to  spike  some  abandoned  Rebel  guns  near 
the  shore  under  a  withering  fire  from  the  enemy.  He  received 
a  commission  soon  after  and  was  retired  in  1899  as  a  brigadier- 
general  and  medal-of -honor  man. 

The  next  day  we  established  a  permanent  camp  in  some 
woods  near  Sharpsburg,  where  we  remained  for  more  than  six 
weeks  and  received  a  detachment  of  recruits  during  our  stay, 
which  somewhat  replenished  our  skeleton  companies.  Four 
companies  of  the  Seventh  Infantry  also  joined  our  brigade  at 
this  place.  They  were  a  part  of  the  troops  surrendered  in 
Texas,  who  were  paroled  at  the  time  and  had  since  been  ex- 
changed. 

A  few  days  after  we  had  settled  down  to  our  regular  camp 
duties  I  was  much  surprised  when  the  first  sergeant  of  my 
company  informed  me  that  I  had  been  detailed  to  report  to 
Lieutenant  Hawkins  as  brigade  commissary  sergeant.  This 
was  promotion  to  a  post  usually  filled  by  an  older  and  more 
experienced  soldier.  My  comrades  congratulated  me  and  said 
I  was  in  luck  to  get  that  position — one  that  was  greatly  desired. 
I  was  not  much  elated  over  it,  however,  and  seriously  con- 
sidered whether  I  should  not  ask  to  be  excused  and  remain 
with  my  company. 

By  this  time  the  sergeant  major  and  half  a  dozen  of  the 
first  sergeants  of  the  companies  had  received  commissions  as 

271 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

second  lieutenants,  and  without  exception  they  made  good 
officers  and  gave  the  regiment  a  better  character  and  standing 
than  the  inexperienced  civilians  that  had  been  inflicted  upon 
us  at  the  beginning  of  the  war,  many  of  whom  we  had  since 
got  rid  of.  All  of  these  sergeants  were  older  than  I  and  had 
been  longer  in  the  service;  I  had  only  just  turned  twenty-one 
and  looked  much  younger.  With  the  exceptions  of  our  two 
musicians,  I  was  the  youngest  soldier  in  the  company,  until 
some  recruits  joined  us  a  while  later.  I  had  learned  from  the 
sergeant  major  that  my  name  had  been  mentioned  in  the 
regimental  report  for  good  conduct  in  battle,  along  with  those 
of  some  other  non-commissioned  officers. 

I  had  spoken  to  a  couple  of  our  officers,  who  were  most 
friendly  to  me,  about  applying  for  a  commission,  and  was  ad- 
vised to  wait  until  I  should  be  first  sergeant  of  a  company. 
This  seemed  a  long  way  off,  as  I  was  only  the  third  sergeant 
of  the  company  at  the  time.  I  realized  that  if  I  left  the 
company  on  special  duty,  to  act  as  brigade  commis- 
sary sergeant,  the  man  who  remained  in  the  ranks  would 
get  the  preference  in  promotion,  other  reasons  being 
equal.  On  the  other  hand  the  position  offered  many  advan- 
tages and  was  less  arduous  than  that  of  a  company  officer.  No 
more  marching — I  would  have  a  horse  to  ride ;  no  more  guard 
and  picket  duties;  no  more  standing  in  ranks  to  be  fired  at 
for  hours  by  the  enemy.  The  worst  that  had  befallen  the  army 
trains  thus  far  had  been  guerrilla  attacks  and  captures  by  the 
enemy.  So  far  I  had  been  so  lucky  as  to  escape  without  a 
scratch,  but  I  had  seen  many  of  my  comrades  fall  in  battle 
while  in  the  ranks,  and  it  might  be  my  turn  in  the  very  next 
engagement.  I  decided  to  hold  the  position  and  left  my  com- 
pany to  report  to  the  acting  commissary  officer  at  brigade 
headquarters.  There  was  no  extra  pay  attached  to  the  position. 
I  was  carried  on  the  company's  muster  rolls  as  "absent  on 
special  duty." 

First  Lieutenant  Hamilton  S.  Hawkins  of  the  Sixth  United 
States  Infantry  was  acting  as  the  brigade  commissary  and 
quarter-master.  He  was  a  West  Point  graduate  and  a  gentle- 

272 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

man — one  of  the  finest  officers  I  met  in  the  service.  He  was 
very  dignified,  honorable  and  just,  kind  and  pleasant  with  his 
inferiors  in  rank — one  of  Nature's  noblemen.  In  after  years 
he  was  called  the  "Sir  Henry  Havelock"  of  the  American 
Army.  In  the  Spanish  War  he  was  a  major-general  of  volun- 
teers and  commanded  the  division  that  captured  San  Juan  Hill. 
He  retired  in  1898  as  a  brigadier-general  of  the  United  States 
Army,  and  at  his  death  (which  occurred  recently)  he  was  the 
governor  of  the  Soldiers'  Home  in  Washington,  D.  C. 

With  Lieutenant  Hawkins,  as  his  chief  assistant,  was  John 
W.  Clous,  quarter-master  sergeant  of  the  Sixth  United  States 
Infantry,  who  acted  in  the  double  capacity  of  brigade  quarter- 
master and  commissary  sergeant.  It  was  to  relieve  him  of  the 
duties  of  the  latter  that  I  was  detailed.  Sergeant  Clous  was  a 
remarkable  man  and  had  a  most  honorable  and  successful 
career  in  the  army.  He  was  well  educated — a  student — he  had 
served  on  the  frontiers  and  was  my  senior  by  eight  or  ten  years. 
He  became  a  second  lieutenant  in  December,  1862;  and  after 
the  war  he  made  a  study  of  military  law  and  became  the  pro- 
fessor of  law,  with  the  rank  of  lieutenant  colonel,  at  the 
Military  Academy  at  West  Point.  At  the  close  of  the  Spanish 
War  he  was  a  brigadier-general  and  judge  advocate  of  the 
commission  which  settled  the  affairs  between  the  United  States 
and  Cuba.  He  retired  as  a  brigadier-general  in  1901  and  died 
a  few  years  ago.  Much  to  my  regret,  I  never  had  the  oppor- 
tunity of  meeting  either  of  these  men  after  I  left  the  army. 

When  I  entered  upon  my  new  duties  I  found  that  I  had 
much  to  learn,  but  I  had  a  very  capable  instructor  in  Sergeant 
Clous.  He  was  thoroughly  familiar  with  all  the  rules  and  regu- 
lations of  the  commissary  department  and  the  many  forms  for 
accounts  and  reports  which  the  admirable  Government  method 
of  accounting  for  everything  demanded.  We  had  a  wall  tent 
which  we  used  for  an  office  when  in  a  permanent  camp,  furn- 
ished with  two  small  field  desks  and  a  folding  table.  When 
in  camp  Sergeant  Clous  and  I  slept  in  this  tent;  on  the  march 
we  slept  under  the  clear  skies  or  in  a  wagon  when  it  rained. 
Our  little  detachment  included  a  clerk  and  three  men  to  load 

273 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

and  unload  wagons  and  assist  in  issuing  rations.  One  of  these 
men  was  also  the  butcher  who  slaughtered  the  beef  cattle  when 
we  had  any,  killing  the  cattle  with  a  rifle  and  dressing  the 
carcass.  Another  did  the  cooking  for  our  mess  and  the  third 
man  took  care  of  Sergeant  Clous's  horse  and  mine,  besides  his 
other  duties.  These  men  were  all  soldiers  detailed  for  special 
duties,  temporarily  absent  from  their  companies  and,  like  my- 
self, liable  to  be  ordered  back  to  duty  in  the  ranks  at  any  time. 
There  was  also  a  wagon-master  who  was  a  civilian,  as  were 
also  most  of  the  teamsters ;  he  had  charge  of  our  supply  train 
under  orders  from  the  commissary  officer.  When  in  camp 
Lieutenant  Hawkins,  who  had  a  private  servant,  generally 
stayed  at  brigade  headquarters,  but  while  at  Sharpsburg  he 
had  his  tent  for  a  time  in  a  grove  along  with  the  officers  of  his 
regiment.  I  remember  that  his  mother  visited  him  there  and 
remained  for  some  days.  She  was  a  very  fine,  motherly  lady 
who  adored  her  son. 

While  the  army  was  at  Sharpsburg  all  of  its  supplies  had  to 
be  hauled  from  Hagerstown,  Maryland,  about  twenty  miles 
away,  which  was  the  nearest  railroad  depot.  There  was  a 
good  turn-pike  road  all  the  way  from  Sharpsburg,  which 
passed  through  the  recent  battle-field,  on  which  the  Dunkard 
church  was  a  conspicuous  mark.  It  was  one  of  my  duties  to 
draw  supplies  at  Hagerstown  once  a  week  or  oftener.  I  was 
provided  with  the  necessary  requisitions,  signed  by  Lieutenant 
Hawkins  and  countersigned  by  the  brigade  commander,  given 
charge  of  as  many  wagons  as  were  required  and  accompanied 
by  the  wagon-master.  We  generally  made  an  early  morning 
start  so  as  to  arrive  in  Hagerstown  early  in  the  afternoon,  load- 
ing the  wagons  on  the  same  day,  then  going  into  camp  for  the 
night,  and  returning  to  Sharpsburg  the  following  day.  This 
could  not  always  be  done,  as  the  place  was  crowded  with 
army  wagons  on  the  same  business  and  it  was  a  case  of  first 
come,  first  served.  I  always  rode  on  ahead  to  get  my  requisi- 
tion on  file,  and  if  we  could  not  be  attended  to  on  that  day,  I 
rode  back  to  meet  my  train  and  park  them  in  some  field  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  town.  It  often  took  two  days  and  a  night  to 
make  the  trip,  sometimes  more. 

274 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

On  one  occasion,  after  the  train  had  been  parked,  it  became 
necessary  for  me  to  return  to  the  town,  and  as  my  horse  had 
cast  a  shoe,  I  had  my  saddle  put  on  one  of  the  teamster's  riding 
mules.  It  was  my  first  experience  in  riding  a  mule.  I  got 
along  well  enough  for  a  short  distance  until  I  came  to  the  ford 
of  a  small  stream,  where  we  were  in  the  habit  of  watering  our 
animals.  I  stopped  to  let  the  mule  drink  and  then  started  to 
cross,  but  he  was  determined  to  go  back  to  the  train.  I  next 
tried  to  cross  an  adjoining  bridge  with  the  same  result.  I 
coaxed  him,  I  dismounted  and  tried  to  lead  him,  I  remounted 
and  did  all  that  could  be  done  to  a  mule  with  a  pair  of  spurs 
and  strong  language,  much  to  the  amusement  of  some  soldier 
spectators,  who  advised  me  to  build  a  fire  under  him.  I  could 
not  make  him  go  to  Hagerstown,  but  he  willingly  went  back  to 
camp,  to  my  discomfiture,  and  I  had  to  borrow  the  wagon- 
master's  horse  to  make  the  trip. 

We  were  paid  while  in  the  Sharpsburg  camp  and  I  was  able 
to  buy  fresh  bread  and  other  things  for  our  mess  while  in  town. 
The  bread  tasted  mighty  good  after  being  on  hard- tack  for  six 
months.  I  also  regaled  myself  a  few  times  with  a  real  dinner 
in  a  tavern  at  the  extravagant  price  of  twenty-five  cents. 
Nearly  all  through  October  the  weather  was  delightful  and  I 
enjoyed  the  trips  to  town  immensely;  the  days  were  warm,  but 
the  nights  began  to  be  cool  enough  for  camp-fires. 

President  Lincoln  visited  the  army  on  the  first  of  October 
and  remained  with  General  McClellan  for  several  days.  Near 
the  middle  of  October  General  Stuart  of  the  Confederate  Army 
made  a  swift  raid  with  two  thousand  cavalry-men  and  a  battery 
of  horse  artillery  into  Pennsylvania  and  around  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac,  as  he  had  done  on  the  Peninsula.  He  was  almost 
unopposed,  as  our  cavalry — never  equal  to  that  of  the  Con- 
federates in  number — was  at  this  time  broken  down,  scattered 
and  so  reduced  in  numbers  by  the  late  campaign  that  not  a 
thousand  serviceable  horses  could  be  mounted.  After  Stuart's 
raid  the  coad  to  Hagerstown  was  patroled  by  cavalry. 

When  not  on  the  road  I  was  kept  busy  in  camp  issuing 
rations  and  making  up  accounts.  At  this  time  the  system  was 

275 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

for  the  brigade  commissary  to  issue  rations  to  companies  on 
the  requisition  of  the  officer  commanding  the  company,  ap- 
proved by  the  commander  of  the  regiment.  Companies  sub- 
divided their  rations  among  themselves.  While  in  camp  issues 
of  rations  were  made  about  once  a  week,  except  fresh  meat, 
which  was  issued  on  days  when  cattle  was  slaughtered. 

Provisions  for  officers  and  their  servants,  according  to  regu- 
lations of  the  commissary  department,  could  only  be  sold  to 
them  for  cash  and  on  their  certificate  that  they  were  for  their 
own  use;  for  the  Government  sold  commissary  stores  to  offi- 
cers at  cost,  less  the  cost  of  freight,  but  for  their  own  use  only. 
The  rule  of  selling  for  cash  only  could  not  be  enforced  strictly 
in  war  times,  but  the  commissary  officer  made  himself  liable 
for  any  credit  he  chose  to  extend.  Sales  to  officers  were  made 
during  fixed  hours  of  the  morning;  money  received  and 
vouchers  for  same  were  turned  over  to  the  commissary  officer 
daily.  As  commissary  sergeant  I  soon  found  that  I  was  really 
gaining  the  experience  of  a  manager  for  a  large  grocery  firm. 

Issues  of  whiskey  to  troops,  one  gill  per  day,  were  only  made 
on  the  order  of  the  brigade  commander  in  cases  of  excessive 
fatigue  or  severe  exposure.  Officers  could  purchase  all  they 
wanted,  if  they  stated  in  their  written  orders  to  the  commissary 
that  it  was  for  their  own  use  and  signed  their  names.  Some 
good-natured  officers  who  hardly  drank  at  all,  seemed  to  buy 
much  whiskey,  for  they  frequently  gave  one  of  their  company 
sergeants  an  order  which  read  something  like  this:  "Let  the 
bearer  have  one  canteen  full  of  whiskey  for  my  use."  Others 
more  scrupulous  omitted  the  words  "for  my  use,"  knowing  the 
order  would  not  be  filled  in  that  case;  but  I  suspect  that  in 
some  cases  the  soldier  added  the  necessary  words  to  the  order 
which  he  himself  had  written  after  the  unsuspecting  officer 
had  signed  it. 

Sometimes  stores  became  damaged  or  were  received  in  a 
damaged  condition,  when  a  board  of  survey  was  appointed  by 
the  commanding  officer  to  ascertain  the  amount  of  damage,  for 
the  commissary  officer  was  virtually  obliged  to  account  for 
every  cracker  he  received.  There  seemed  to  be  no  end  to  the 

276 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

many  accounts  we  had  to  keep  and  reports  to  make  out,  but 
it  was  an  instructive  business  experience  for  me. 

On  the  sixth  of  October  General  McClellan  received  an 
order  from  Washington  to  cross  the  Potomac  and  give  battle 
to  the  enemy  or  drive  him  South  while  the  roads  were  good. 
At  this  time  the  army  was  in  no  condition  to  move  for  want  of 
supplies  which  arrived  very  tardily,  and  it  was  not  until  the 
end  of  October,  when  bad  weather  had  set  in,  that  the  first  part 
of  the  troops  re-crossed  the  Potomac.  During  all  this  time 
the  authorities  at  Washington  and  the  Northern  papers  were 
accusing  McClellan  of  being  dilatory  and  demanding  his  re- 
moval. The  Fifth  Army  Corps  left  Sharpsburg  on  the  thirtieth 
and  crossed  the  Potomac  next  day  at  Harper's  Ferry,  while  the 
train  crossed  on  a  pontoon  bridge  at  Berlin,  some  distance 
further  south.  Riding  a  horse  was  a  very  agreeable  change 
from  marching  in  the  ranks  and  carrying  a  heavy  load.  All  I 
carried  now  on  my  person  was  a  large  Colt's  revolver.  To  my 
McClellan  saddle  was  strapped  an  overcoat  and  a  canteen  of 
water,  while  the  saddle-bags  held  some  cooked  meat  and 
crackers  and  a  pipe  and  tobacco. 

The  roads  were  fairly  good  on  the  start  until  we  neared  the 
Blue  Ridge  Mountains.  Being  again  in  the  enemy's  country, 
the  train  had  a  guard  of  some  infantry  and  a  small  detachment 
of  cavalry.  The  chief  quarter-master  of  the  Fifth  Army 
Corps  was  in  charge  of  our  train  and  directed  its  movements. 

On  November  second  we  rejoined  our  brigade  at  the  small 
.town  of  Snickersville.  That  evening  Sykes's  division  was 
ordered  to  occupy  Snicker's  Gap  and  make  a  reconnaissance  to 
Snicker's  Ferry  on  the  Shenandoah.  I  was  ordered  to  follow 
the  troops  with  a  couple  of  wagons  and  issue  some  rations  to 
my  brigade.  The  ascent  to  the  top  of  the  Gap  where  the  troops 
rested  for  the  night  was  steep  and  wearisome;  the  night  was 
dark  and  cold,  and  when  we  arrived  on  the  mountain-top,  late, 
a  strong  wind  was  blowing.  I  snatched  a  little  sleep  in  one  of 
the  wagons  and  issued  the  rations  at  daylight. 

Part  of  the  divison  descended  the  Gap  towards  the  Shen- 
andoah in  the  morning  but  did  not  cross,  and  during  the  day  an 

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TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

artillery  engagement  occurred  between  some  of  the  Rebels  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  river  and  the  Sixth  and  fourteenth 
United  States  Infantry.  After  taking  a  long  look  at  the  beau- 
tiful and  fertile  valley  of  the  Shenandoah  at  our  feet  I  started 
back  to  our  camp.  On  the  way  down  the  mountain  we  had  a 
mishap;  one  of  the  teamsters  struck  a  boulder  and  broke  a 
wheel,  which  caused  delay  and  we  were  obliged  to  cut  down  a 
small  tree  and  rig  up  a  drag  to  get  the  wagon  back  to  the  camp. 

We  remained  in  camp  until  Sykes's  division  was  withdrawn 
from  Snicker's  Gap  and  resumed  our  march  east  of  the  Blue 
Ridge  by  way  of  White  Plains  and  New  Baltimore  to  Warren- 
ton,  where  we  arrived  on  the  ninth  of  November.  On  our 
march  to  White  Plains  we  had  a  wet  snow  nearly  all  day,  which 
made  the  roads  bad.  At  Warrenton  we  learned  that  General 
McClellan  had  been  relieved  from  the  command  of  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac  and  Major  General  Ambrose  E.  Burnside  placed 
in  command.  General  McClellan's  enemies  in  the  Cabinet,  to- 
gether with  Halleck,  the  bureaucratic  general,  had  finally  pre- 
vailed in  their  schemes  to  cause  the  President  to  relieve  him. 
The  following  day,  the  tenth,  that  part  of  the  army  which  was 
at  Warrenton  was  drawn  up  along  the  turnpike  and  General 
McClellan's  farewell  address  was  read  to  them;  then  came 
hearty  cheering,  as  the  General  rode  down  between  the  lines  of 
the  troops,  bidding  them  farewell.  The  army  was  sad  over  the 
loss  of  a  commander  who  had  their  affection  and  confidence. 

Two  days  later  the  Fifth  Corps  had  another  sad  parting  scene 
when  their  old  commander,  Major  General  Fitz-John  Porter, 
was  relieved  and  ordered  to  report  at  Washington.  Major 
General  Joseph  Hooker  was  now  placed  in  command  of  the 
corps. 

General  Burnside  did  not  seek — nor  did  he  wish — to  take  the 
command  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  frankly  declaring  him- 
self inadequate  for  that  exalted  position.  In  this  he  was 
prophetic,  and  in  a  month  proved  it  to  the  mournful  knowledge 
of  the  army  and  the  entire  country. 

We  remained  about  a  week  at  Warrenton.  General  Burn- 
side  formed  the  six  corps  of  the  army  into  what  were  to  be 

278 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

called  the  Right,  Center  and  Left  Grand  Divisions,  commanded 
respectively  by  Generals  Sumner,  Hooker  and  Franklin.  The 
Right  Grand  Division  was  composed  of  the  Second  and  Ninth 
Corps ;  the  Center  of  the  Third  and  Fifth,  and  the  Left  of  the 
First  and  Sixth  Corps,  General  Hooker  being  selected,  as  I 
have  mentioned,  as  one  of  the  Grand  Division  commanders. 
General  Daniel  Butterfield  was  appointed  to  command  the  Fifth 
Army  Corps,  which  Hooker  had  commanded  only  for  a  few 
days. 

We  left  Warrenton  on  the  seventeenth  and  went  by  way  of 
Warrenton  Junction  and  Hartwood  Church  to  the  vicinity  of 
Falmouth,  near  Fredericksburg,  and  parked  the  Fifth  Corps 
train,  establishing  a  camp  near  the  Henry  house  on  the  twenty- 
third  of  November.  This  march  was  a  very  severe  one,  as  we 
had  a  cold  rain  nearly  every  day  and  the  roads  were  execrable. 
Wagons  were  stalled  in  the  mud,  teams  had  to  be  doubled  to 
pull  them  out,  the  road  was  blockaded  for  hours  at  a  time,  and 
it  was  very  late  at  night  when  we  caught  up  with  the  troops, 
who  were  in  bivouac  long  before  our  arrival. 

It  soon  became  very  cold  and  we  experienced  the  rigors  of  a 
winter  campaign.  The  soldiers  built  little  log  huts  and  shacks, 
roofed  them  with  their  shelter  tents,  and  built  earth  and  stone 
fireplaces,  the  chimneys  terminating  in  a  flour  or  pork  barrel 
which  often  caught  fire.  For  an  office  and  a  place  to  sleep  I 
had  a  wall  tent  with  a  camp  stove  in  it.  We  fixed  up  a  kitchen 
and,  with  the  aid  of  tarpaulins,  erected  a  few  store-houses  for 
the  protection  of  the  commissary  stores,  which  were  guarded 
by  a  sentinel.  The  railroad  from  Aquia  Creek  on  the  Potomac 
was  quickly  repaired  and  we  drew  our  supplies  at  a  railroad 
switch  about  two  miles  from  the  camp. 

On  evenings  when  I  was  at  leisure  I  often  visited  my  regi- 
ment to  talk  with  my  comrades.  Some  sat  around  camp-fires 
built  in  the  company  streets,  others  played  cards  in  their  little 
huts.  Tricks  were  often  played  upon  the  card-players,  such 
as  covering  the  barrel  chimney  with  a  gunny-bag  and  smoking 
them  out;  or  some  more  mischievous  man  would  throw  per- 
cussion caps  down  the  chimney,  or  a  few  paper  cartridges, 

279 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

which  scattered  their  fire  and  broke  up  the  game  for  a  while. 
On  some  days  when  three  or  four  inches  of  snow  had  fallen  and 
then  melted  to  a  soft  slush,  the  soldiers  were  in  misery ;  and  at 
other  times  they  suffered  from  cold,  which  was  very  severe  for 
that  latitude. 

As  General  Burnside  had  determined  to  cross  the  Rappa- 
hannock  and  attack  the  enemy  at  Fredericksburg,  I  was  ordered 
on  the  tenth  of  December  to  issue  five  days'  marching  rations 
to  the  brigade  and  then  to  load  all  stores  into  the  wagons  and 
be  ready  to  leave  camp  when  ordered.  On  the  morning  of  the 
eleventh,  before  daybreak  we  heard  the  booming  of  cannon  in 
the  direction  of  Fredericksburg,  three  miles  away,  where  the 
engineer  troops  were  preparing  to  lay  pontoon  bridges  across 
the  river.  Shortly  after  daylight  the  Fifth  Corps  began  its 
march  towards  the  river  and  the  train  followed  the  troops.  On 
our  arrival  at  the  river-bank  the  corps  and  train  were  massed 
behind  the  batteries  on  Stafford  Heights,  which  overlooked  the 
river,  the  town  and  much  of  the  country  beyond,  although  a 
heavy  fog  enveloped  the  town  during  the  early  morning  hours 
and  hid  it  from  view.  The  engineers,  engaged  in  laying  the 
pontoons,  were  opposed  by  such  a  destructive  fire  from  the 
Rebel  sharp-shooters  concealed  in  the  houses  and  in  rifle-pits 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  that  they  were  obliged  to 
cease  operations  and  retire  to  cover,  although  some  troops  on 
our  side  of  the  river  kept  firing  on  the  sharp-shooters. 

About  ten  o'clock  General  Burnside  ordered  the  one  hundred 
and  forty-seven  guns  on  Stafford  Heights  to  shell  the  town, 
which  was  done  for  nearly  two  hours.  The  noise  was  terrific. 
During  this  bombardment  I  made  my  way  to  the  front,  along- 
side of  one  of  our  batteries,  where  I  had  a  good  view  of  the 
effect  of  our  terrible  fire  on  the  city  about  a  mile  away,  until 
the  smoke  from  bursting  shells  and  burning  buildings  obscured 
the  view.  The  Rebel  batteries  on  the  heights  beyond  the  town 
made  little  attempt  to  reply  to  our  fire ;  only  a  few  long-range 
guns  could  reach  us,  and  they  did  little  damage  in  my  vicinity. 
When  our  bombardment  ceased  it  was  found  that  it  had  failed 
to  dislodge  the  sharp-shooters,  as  our  guns  could  not  be  de- 

280 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

pressed  enough  for  the  shells  to  hit  the  houses  on  the  river- 
bank. 

It  was  after  the  shelling  ceased  that  the  Nineteenth  Massa- 
chusetts and  the  Seventh  Michigan  regiments,  which  were  at 
the  river-front,  volunteered  to  cross  the  river  in  pontoon  boats 
and  drive  away  the  sharp-shooters.  This  they  did  in  gallant 
style,  under  fire.  Two  bridges  were  completed  at  four  thirty 
P.  M.  and  troops  began  to  cross,  continuing  all  night  and  the 
following  day.  Sykes's  division  was  held  in  reserve  and  did 
not  cross  until  the  afternoon  of  the  thirteenth.  Very  few 
wagons  were  sent  over  besides  ammunition  wagons. 

Lieutenant  Hawkins  sent  me  with  a  written  message  to 
brigade  headquarters  about  sundown  on  the  same  day.  I  went 
on  foot,  past  the  Lacey  house  (which  was  Burnside's  head- 
quarters during  the  battle  and  was  also  used  as  a  hospital) 
down  the  hill  to  the  river  and  across  a  pontoon  bridge.  I  found 
my  brigade  halted  in  one  of  the  streets  near  the  edge  of  the 
town,  preparing  to  march  out  and  relieve  some  of  the  troops 
on  the  front  line.  I  delivered  my  letter  to  Major  Andrews, 
the  brigade  commander,  who  returned  the  envelope  to  me 
marked  in  pencil  with  his  name  and  time  of  delivery,  as  was 
customary. 

On  my  way  back  to  the  pontoon  bridge  I  had  time  to  say  a 
few  words  to  my  comrades  in  the  regiment  as  I  passed  them. 
The  streets  were  dark,  but  there  was  light  enough  to  distinguish 
the  effects  of  the  bombardment  and  the  burnt  houses  of  two 
days  before.  I  walked  in  the  middle  of  the  street  while  passing 
through  some  of  the  residence  blocks,  for  the  brick  side- 
walks were  littered  with  chairs,  sofas,  bedding  and  all  manner 
of  household  goods  from  the  looted  houses,  which  had  been 
thrown  out  by  some  of  our  soldiers  who  had  bivouacked  in  the 
street  the  night  before.  Some  of  the  stragglers  were  still  in 
the  houses;  in  one  of  them  I  heard  some  soldiers  playing  a 
piano.  We  had  been  told  that  a  number  of  women  and  children 
had  remained  in  town,  hiding  in  cellars,  but  I  saw  none  of  them, 
although  I  did  see  a  number  of  corpses  lying  about  on  the  side- 
walks and  in  the  streets,  and  wounded  soldiers  making  their 

281 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

way  to  hospitals  which  had  been  established  in  the  public  build- 
ings and  many  of  the  private  houses.  Nearer  the  river  business 
buildings  and  stores  had  been  looted  and  the  contents  scattered 
over  the  street.  In  passing  through  one  of  these  streets  I 
picked  up  a  book  as  a  souvenir  and  when  I  examined  it  later  on 
in  camp  I  found  the  name  of  Alexander  H.  Stevens  written  in 
it.  He  was  the  vice-president  of  the  Confederacy.  At  the 
bridge  I  was  stopped  by  the  guard  and  was  obliged  to  explain 
my  business  to  the  officer  in  command  and  exhibit  my  envelope 
before  being  allowed  to  re-pass  the  river. 

The  story  of  the  Battle  of  Fredericksburg  covers  the  saddest 
pages  in  the  history  of  the  war.  From  it  we  learn  how  Burn- 
side  planned  this  battle,  then  lost  his  head  and  followed  no 
particular  plan;  how  he  stubbornly  hurled  division  after 
division  in  a  front  attack  on  the  impregnable  position  on 
Marye's  Heights  against  the  advice  of  his  corps  commanders ; 
how  thousands  were  sacrificed  in  this  bloody  and  most  useless 
slaughter  of  the  war;  the  indescribable  sufferings  of  the 
wounded  to  whom  no  help  could  be  extended,  many  of  whom 
were  frozen  during  the  winter  nights.  The  rank  and  file  them- 
selves knew  the  hopelessness  of  the  attack,  and  yet  bravely 
made  three  more  charges  after  the  first  had  been  nearly  anni- 
hilated. 

Sykes's  division  was  not  called  upon  to  take  part  in  the  direct 
assault,  but  on  the  night  of  the  thirteenth  took  up  a  position 
which  at  daylight  proved  to  be  in  a  depression  so  shallow  that 
to  raise  a  limb  while  lying  down  or  to  turn  over,  meant  surely 
to  be  wounded;  and  some  who  tried  to  get  to  the  rear  for 
water  immediately  fell  lifeless,  pierced  by  many  balls.  No  help 
could  be  given  to  the  wounded — they  were  obliged  to  lie  and 
wait  until  night,  when  the  command  was  enabled  to  creep  away. 
In  our  brigade  eighty  men  were  killed  and  wounded,  mostly 
while  hugging  the  cold  earth  all  that  day  and  having  no  chance 
to  inflict  any  damage  on  the  enemy  except  for  a  little  while  the 
previous  evening. 

The  army  was  skillfully  withdrawn  on  the  night  of  the 
fifteenth  during  a  violent  rain-storm.  The  First  Brigade  of 

282 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

General  Sykes's  regulars,  and  General  Warren's  Third  Brigade 
covered  the  retreat.  When  these  troops  had  crossed  some 
time  after  daylight  on  the  seventeenth,  the  engineers  cast  the 
pontoons  loose  and  none  remained  behind  in  the  death-trap 
into  which  Burnside  had  led  the  army,  except  the  many 
thousands  of  our  wounded,  their  surgeons  and  some  prisoners. 
The  army  returned  to  its  former  locations  and  re-established 
its  camps. 

The  morale  of  the  army  was  much  impaired  by  this  battle; 
it  had  lost  confidence  in  its  commander  which  could  never  be 
restored,  and  for  the  first  time  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  might 
be  considered  demoralized. 

Christmas  and  New  Year's  passed,  celebrated  among  the 
volunteers  by  the  reception  of  thousands  of  boxes  containing 
gifts  and  good  things  from  their  friends  at  home ;  but  few  of 
the  regulars  had  any  friends  to  remember  them.  The  only 
exception  to  the  usual  routine  on  those  two  days  was  the 
issuing  of  a  gill  of  whiskey  by  the  commissary. 

But  we  were  not  yet  done  with  General  Burnside.  Once 
more  he  tried  to  surprise  the  vigilant  enemy.  On  January 
sixteenth  orders  were  issued  to  prepare  to  march  on  the 
eighteenth,  then  were  countermanded  and  it  was  not  until 
noon  of  the  twentieth  that  the  movement  started — which  gave 
the  enemy  plenty  of  time  to  learn  of  it  through  their  spies 
and  be  prepared  for  us.  The  weather  had  been  severely  cold 
for  some  time  and  the  roads  frozen  hard.  We  marched  about 
five  miles  towards  the  Rappahannock  in  a  direction  to  bring 
us  above  Fredericksburg  at  Banks'  Ford,  not  fordable  at  this 
time,  and  halted  for  the  night,  when  rain  began  to  fall  and 
continued  throughout  the  night. 

The  next  day  when  the  movement  was  resumed,  the  storm 
was  worse.  Soon  the  roads  were  blocked  by  artillery  and 
wagons  stalled  in  quagmire;  and  pontoons  were  upset  and 
laid  along  the  road,  the  condition  of  which  was  appalling.  It 
seemed  as  though  the  elements  were  determined  that  Burnside 
should  not  again  lead  the  army  into  disaster.  Before  night  the 
army  was  literally  mud-bound  and  was  unable  to  advance  or 

283 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

retreat ;  large  details  of  infantry  tried  to  help  pull  the  artillery 
and  wagons  out  of  the  clayey  and  sticky  roads,  ineffectually; 
then  thousands  of  men  were  put  to  work  to  fell  trees  to  cordu- 
roy and  to  build  new  stretches  of  road.  Though  the  rain 
ceased  on  the  evening  of  the  second  day,  men  and  animals  con- 
tinued to  suffer  greatly  while  trying  to  extricate  the  teams. 
Some  of  the  horses  and  mules  that  dropped  exhausted  in  their 
traces  were  drowned,  so  deep  was  the  liquid  mud  in  places.  It 
took  four  days  of  Herculean  toil  to  enable  the  army  to  return 
to  their  camps  again.  My  train  did  not  fare  so  badly  as  some 
others,  for  we  halted  at  the  end  of  the  first  day's  march  and 
remained  there  for  three  days.  During  that  time  we  issued 
some  rations  of  hard  bread  and  sugar  and  coffee  to  replace 
what  had  been  spoiled  by  the  fierce  rain  in  the  men's  haversacks. 
As  the  wagons  could  not  move  to  get  to  the  brigade,  details  of 
soldiers  had  to  come  and  get  these  rations  and  carry  them  for 
miles  on  their  backs  to  their  comrades.  This  was  "Burnside's 
Mud  March,"  never  to  be  forgotten  by  those  who  participated 
in  it.  The  Rebel  pickets  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Rappa- 
hannock  in  derision  put  up  some  large  sign-boards  marked, 
"Burnside  stuck  in  the  mud !"  "This  way  to  Richmond !" 

On  January  twenty-fifth,  directly  after  our  return  from  the 
"Mud  March,"  General  Burnside  resigned  the  command  of 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  and  was  later  on  given  a  command 
in  the  West.  There  was  no  farewell  parade,  as  there  had  been 
for  Generals  McClellan  and  Porter  a  little  more  than  two 
months  before.  He  had  lost  the  confidence  of  the  army  and 
the  support  of  the  Administration,  and  had  drawn  upon  him- 
self the  censure  of  the  press  and  the  people  for  his  useless 
sacrifice  of  thousands  of  human  lives. 

General  Joseph  Hooker  was  now  placed  in  command  of  the 
army,  "Fighting  Joe  Hooker,"  as  the  soldiers  called  him,  an 
officer  fairly  well  liked  in  the  army  but  not  possessing  the 
entire  confidence  of  the  corps  commanders  as  to  his  fitness 
for  the  position.  General  Hooker  made  many  changes.  He 
did  away  with  the  Grand  Division  formation.  In  the  Fifth 
Corps  he  made  Major  General  George  G.  Meade  the  com- 

284 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

mander,  in  place  of  Butterfield,  who  became  his  Chief  of  Staff. 
We  lost  General  Warren,  the  commander  of  our  Third  Bri- 
gade; he  became  the  Chief  of  Topographical  Engineers  on 
General  Hooker's  staff.  Distinctive  corps  badges  were  ordered 
to  be  worn  on  the  cap  or  hat  of  each  officer  and  soldier ;  head- 
quarters of  each  brigade,  division  and  corps  had  a  standard 
with  a  device  the  shape  and  color  of  which  indicated  at  a 
glance  that  part  of  the  army  they  typified.  The  badge  of  the 
Fifth  Army  Corps  was  in  the  shape  of  a  Maltese  cross  of  red 
for  the  First  Division,  white  for  the  second,  blue  for  the  third, 
and  green  when  there  was  a  fourth  division.  These  badges 
proved  to  be  very  useful  when  arresting  stragglers  and  re- 
turning them  to  their  command.  They  were  made  of  cloth, 
one  and  one-half  inches  square.  We  wore  them  to  the  end 
of  the  war. 

After  the  "Mud  March"  the  soldiers  rebuilt  their  huts  and 
made  themselves  as  comfortable  as  possible  under  the  circum- 
stances; but  the  winter  proved  to  be  an  unusually  severe  one 
for  Virginia.  We  had  much  snow  and  some  very  cold  periods. 
Many  furloughs  were  granted,  absentees  returned,  and  re- 
cruits arrived.  The  commissary  issued  full  rations,  often 
including  fresh  bread  which  had  been  baked  in  Washington 
and  could  be  issued  within  two  days.  Some  regiments  drew 
flour  and  baked  their  own  bread. 

After  Fredericksburg  there  was  much  Confederate  money 
in  some  of  the  camps  which  had  been  plundered  from  the 
banks  and  houses.  It  soon  became  widely  distributed  through 
poker  playing  and  it  was  no  uncommon  thing  to  find  games  for 
large  stakes  going  on  in  the  tents  at  night.  Expressions  such 
as  "I'll  see  you,  and  raise  you  a  hundred  dollars !"  were  often 
heard;  some  had  thousands  of  dollars.  Much  of  this  money 
was  sent  away  as  souvenirs,  much  of  it  was  lost  or  destroyed ; 
some,  in  a  spirit  of  bravado,  lit  their  pipes  with  ten-dollar 
bills — much  to  their  vexation,  when  later  on  a  man  came  along, 
offering  to  pay  three  cents  on  the  dollar  for  the  Confederate 
money. 

While  in  this  camp  Sergeant  Clous  was  promoted,  becoming 

285 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Second  Lieutenant  in  the  Sixth  Infantry.  He  had  instructed 
me  so  well  in  my  duties  that  by  this  time  I  was  competent  to  get 
along  unassisted.  I  also  lost  Lieutenant  Hawkins,  who  re- 
mained Brigade  Quartermaster  but  was  replaced  as  Commis- 
sary by  First  Lieutenant  William  F.  Greeley  of  the  Eleventh 
United  States  Infantry,  a  civilian  appointee  from  New  Hamp- 
shire. I  got  along  very  well  with  him  and  never  had  any 
trouble  while  he  remained  Commissary  Officer;  my  only  ob- 
jection to  him  was  that  in  many  difficult  situations  he  let  me 
find  my  own  way  out  of  trouble  without  his  advice  or  assist- 
ance. At  this  time  I  traded  my  rather  large  gray  horse  for 
a  smaller  dark  bay,  an  intelligent  and  kindly-disposed  animal 
of  whom  I  became  very  fond.  I  called  him  Tommy,  and 
among  other  tricks  I  taught  him  to  push  his  head  through  the 
opening  of  my  tent  and  beg  for  a  cracker  or  sugar. 

The  winter  seemed  long  and  dreary.  In  April  reviews  were 
held  and  there  was  much  drilling.  By  the  middle  of  April 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  had  increased  in  numbers  to  about 
one  hundred  and  ten  thousand  infantry  and  artillery,  and 
about  eleven  thousand  cavalry,  and  was  once  more  ready  and 
eager  for  active  service. 


286 


PART  XII. 
CHANCELLORSVILLE,  TO  WINTER  CAMP  OF  1863-1864. 

GENERAL  HOOKER  had  conceived  a  corps  formation 
of  all  the  cavalry  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  in- 
stead of  scattering  it  by  details  among  the  various 
corps  and  divisions  where  its  usefulness  was  frittered  away; 
and  where  it  was  generally  out-numbered  and  beaten  by  the 
enemy,  who  had  consolidated  their  cavalry  forces  long  before. 
The  spring  campaign  of  1863  was  opened  on  April  thirteenth 
by  the  departure  of  General  Stoneman  with  ten  thousand 
cavalry  for  the  upper  fords  of  the  Rappahannock  which  he 
was  to  cross,  turning  the  enemy's  left,  destroying  the  railroads 
and  severing  his  connection  with  Richmond.  But  the  cavalry 
moved  so  cautiously,  or  leisurely,  that  they  consumed  three 
days  in  marching  twenty-five  miles  to  the  ford,  where  they 
were  overtaken  by  a  heavy  rain-storm,  which  swelled  the  river 
so  they  could  not  cross  and  did  not  do  so  until  the  twenty- 
ninth  at  Ely's  Ford,  along  with  infantry  and  artillery.  Before 
the  crossing  was  accomplished  all  chance  of  a  surprise  was 
lost  and  the  large  cavalry  force  was  able  to  inflict  only  trifling 
damage  on  the  enemy's  communications. 

I  was  ordered  to  issue  eight  days'  short  rations  to  the 
brigade,  which  the  men  were  obliged  to  stow  away  in  their 
haversacks  and  knapsacks  as  best  they  could,  besides  some 
extra  rounds  of  ammunition  in  addition  to  that  in  their  cart- 
ridge boxes.  Thus,  loaded  up  more  heavily  than  ever  before, 
without  any  wagon-train  (except  to  carry  ammunition  and 
forage)  and  without  any  regimental  baggage  or  tents  for 
officers,  the  army  began  its  march  on  April  twenty-seventh. 
General  Hooker  had  divided  the  army  into  two  parts:  the 
Fifth,  Eleventh  and  Twelfth  Corps  marched  to  Chancellors- 

287 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

ville  above  Fredericksburg,  by  way  of  Kelly's  Ford  on  the 
Rappahannock  and  the  Germanna  and  Ely's  Ford  on  the 
Rapidan  river:  the  First  and  Sixth  Corps  were  to  cross  the 
Rappahannock  below  Fredericksburg;  the  Third  Corps  was 
held  in  reserve,  but  a  few  days  later  was  sent  to  Chancellors- 
ville  where  General  Hooker  himself  was  in  command. 

The  Fifth  Corps  supply  train  remained  in  camp  about  three 
days  longer  and  then  was  ordered  to  the  United  States  Ford 
at  the  Rappahannock,  where  the  wagons  were  parked  on  the 
high  ground  on  the  north  side  overlooking  the  river  and 
pontoon  bridge.  The  opposite  side  of  the  river  was  a  mass  of 
woods  and  tangled  brush,  a  wilderness  so  far  as  eye  could 
reach.  We  could  plainly  hear  the  firing  on  the  other  side  of 
the  river  and  sometimes  observe  the  smoke  of  battle  rising 
above  the  trees.  We  heard  Jackson's  onslaught  on  the  unfor- 
tunate Eleventh  Corps  on  May  second,  and  General  Sickles's 
midnight  battle.  The  fighting  on  Sunday,  May  third,  seemed 
near  the  river.  The  white  canvas  covers  of  our  wagons  must 
have  been  visible  to  the  Rebels,  for  one  morning  at  daylight  I 
was  awakened  by  shells  from  a  section  of  a  Rebel  battery  on 
the  south  side  of  the  river,  crashing  through  our  train  and 
exploding  in  the  woods  beyond.  They  struck  only  one  of  my 
wagons  before  they  were  quickly  silenced  by  one  of  our  bat- 
teries nearby. 

On  the  morning  of  May  fourth,  I  was  ordered  to  issue  a 
day's  rations  to  the  brigade,  and  as  no  supply  wagons  were 
allowed  to  cross  the  river,  they  were  to  be  packed  on  mules. 
Neither  Lieutenant  Greeley,  the  wagon-master,  nor  I 
understood  anything  about  packing  mules.  Fortunately 
we  discovered  a  few  men  among  the  teamsters  who 
had  had  some  experience  in  that  line;  but  we  had  no  pack- 
saddles.  We  used  the  teamsters'  riding  saddles,  as  far  as  they 
went,  and  on  the  remainder  of  the  mules  we  strapped  blankets. 
We  selected  three  or  four  dozen  of  the  most  docile  animals 
from  the  train  and  loaded  each  one  with  two  boxes  of  hard- 
tack weighing  about  fifty  pounds  apiece,  slung  across  his  back, 
one  box  on  either  side.  Others  we  loaded  with  sacks  of  bacon 

288 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

and  bags  of  coffee  and  sugar.  But  the  mules  were  as  green  at 
the  business  as  we  were,  and  most  of  them  resented  their  treat- 
ment vigorously.  When  we  succeeded  in  getting  the  load  on 
them,  they  tried  to  roll  it  off,  which  disarranged  it  so  we  had 
to  strap  it  on  all  over  again,  a  man  holding  each  mule  to  keep 
him  from  lying  down. 

After  hours  of  labor,  ill  temper  and  strong  language,  I  was 
at  last  ready  to  make  a  start  with  a  detail  from  the  train  guard, 
one  man  to  lead  each  pair  of  mules  and  a  few  extra  men — 
teamsters — who  best  understood  the  packing.  It  was  an  odd- 
looking  procession,  in  front  of  which  I  rode  down  the  hill 
towards  the  pontoon  bridge  over  the  river,  amidst  the  laughter 
and  mirth  of  the  spectators,  and  I  wished  that  Lieutenant 
Greeley  were  leading  the  procession  instead  of  me.  Before  I 
had  gone  fifty  yards  trouble  began  again.  Through  bad  pack- 
ing, some  of  the  loads  shifted  forward  on  the  mules'  necks 
when  going  down  hill ;  some  of  the  animals  fell  and  would  not 
get  up  again  with  their  loads  on ;  they  seemed  to  prefer  to  roll 
down  the  hill  the  rest  of  the  way.  All  this  delayed  me  very 
much  and  it  was  well  past  noon  when  the  troop  had  passed 
the  bridge  and  entered  the  woods  on  the  other  side. 

I  was  instructed  to  follow  the  United  States  Ford  road 
until  I  came  to  an  intersecting  road  about  two  miles  or  more 
away,  near  which  the  Fifth  Corps  was  posted.  The  road  was 
level  and  shady  and  I  got  along  fairly  well,  until  I  reached  a 
short  piece  of  road  which  skirted  a  ravine,  lined  with  our 
troops  behind  breast-works.  Here  my  little  train  must  have 
been  observed  by  the  enemy,  as  the  road  was  higher  at  this 
point  than  the  breastworks,  for  they  opened  on  us  with  some 
guns,  before  we  had  all  passed  this  exposed  spot.  There  was 
confusion  at  once.  The  men  leading  the  mules  rushed  into  the 
woods  with  them  on  the  right  side  of  the  road.  Only  a  few 
shots  were  fired  and  no  damage  done ;  but  it  took  me  more  than 
an  hour  to  gather  the  train  again  and  re-pack  the  mules  that 
had  stripped  their  burden  in  going  through  the  brushwood. 
At  last  I  found  my  command  and  issued  the  rations.  It  was 
an  hour  or  more  until  sun-down,  and  I  deemed  it  best  to  wait 

289 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

until  dark  to  return,  so  as  not  run  the  gauntlet  of  the  Rebel 
battery  again,  and  sought  out  my  regiment,  which  was  sta- 
tioned parallel  to  the  Ely  Ford  road  behind  log  breastworks 
which  had  been  constructed  the  previous  night.  I  learned  from 
my  comrades  that  Captain  S.  S.  Marsh  was  the  only  man  killed 
on  May  first  and  that  twenty  or  more  men  had  been  wounded 
on  that  and  subsequent  days.  Just  about  sun-down  I  saw 
General  Hooker,  followed  by  some  of  his  staff,  walking  very 
slowly  down  the  road  behind  the  breast-works.  The  General 
had  been  injured  the  previous  day  (and  could  not  ride  a  horse, 
I  believe)  at  the  Chancellor  house  from  a  contusion  caused  by 
a  cannon  shot  which  struck  a  veranda  pillar  near  which  he 
had  been  standing.  He  was  a  fine  and  impressive  figure,  walk- 
ing slowly,  bare-headed,  carrying  his  hat  in  his  hand.  Shortly 
after,  I  returned  with  my  train  of  mules  and  reached  the  camp 
without  further  trouble. 

The  next  day  passed  with  little  firing  heard  at  the  front. 
On  the  following  day,  May  fifth,  all  the  supply  trains  were 
ordered  to  return  to  their  old  camps  near  Fredericksburg.  We 
started  on  the  return  march  in  the  afternoon.  Towards  eve- 
ning a  rain-storm  came  on,  such  as  I  have  seldom  witnessed ; 
it  seemed  like  a  cloud-burst — the  rain  came  down  in  sheets. 
In  a  few  minutes  my  riding  boots,  which  reached  almost  to  my 
knees,  were  filled  with  water  and  were  over-flowing.  The 
storm  still  raged  when  we  reached  our  camp.  During  this  night 
the  army  retreated  across  the  Rappahannock,  Sykes's  regulars 
again  covering  the  retreat  and  being  the  last  to  cross  about 
eight  o'clock  next  morning,  unmolested  by  the  enemy.  The 
pontoon  bridges  were  immediately  taken  up  under  the  men- 
acing protection  of  our  batteries  on  the  hills,  and  for  the 
third  time  the  army  marched  back  to  its  old  camps. 

Historians  agree  that  General  Hooker's  plan  for  an  offensive 
battle  was  masterly  and  skillful,  and  everything  pointed  to 
success  until,  on  the  first  day  of  May,  after  he  had  advanced 
to  within  a  few  miles  of  Banks'  Ford  and  had  but  two  divisions 
of  the  enemy  confronting  him,  he  suddenly  decided  to  fight 
a  defensive  battle  and  marched  back  to  Chancellorsville  to  take 

290 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

up  an  inferior  and  more  perilous  position  with  one  of  his  flanks 
in  the  air.  From  that  time  on,  it  is  said,  his  conduct  was  faulty 
and  feeble,  and  the  corps  commanders  despised  his  general- 
ship. The  army  was  forced  to  retreat,  not  because  it  was 
beaten,  as  at  Fredericksburg  under  Burnside — it  had  not  even 
been  all  engaged  at  Chancellorsville — but  through  the  weak 
and  vascillating  conduct  of  its  commander. 

Coincident  with  the  return  of  the  army  from  Chancellors- 
ville, its  numbers  were  considerably  reduced  by  the  expiration 
of  service  of  a  number  of  men  who  had  been  enlisted  for  two 
years  only.  Few  recruits  joined,  enlistments  in  the  Northern 
states  had  fallen  off  alarmingly,  and  the  enforcemnt  of  a  draft 
began  to  be  talked  of.  This  was  the  darkest  period  of  the 
rebellion  for  the  Union,  and  an  exultant  one  for  the  Confed- 
eracy. Among  the  regiments  which  we  lost  in  our  Third  Bri- 
gade was  the  Fifth  New  York  Volunteers,  known  as  the 
Duryee  Zouaves.  About  two  hundred  of  the  men  who 
originally  left  New  York  in  1861  were  now  discharged  and 
had  left  for  home,  their  departure  much  regretted  by  the  regu- 
lars, with  whom  they  had  served  so  long  and  so  creditably. 
General  Sykes  complimented  them  highly  in  the  general  order 
for  their  departure.  The  remainder  of  this  regiment,  com- 
posed of  three-year  men,  was  transferred  to  the  One  Hundred 
and  Forty-sixth  New  York  Volunteers  serving  in  the  same 
brigade,  and  the  Fifth  New  York  Volunteers  ceased  to  exist. 

The  two  armies  confronted  each  other  for  weeks  in  their 
former  positions  and  the  dreary  camp  life  went  on  without 
any  interesting  events.  We  continued  watching  each  other, 
until  General  Lee  took  the  initiative  on  the  third  of  June  by 
sending  some  of  General  Longstreet's  Corps  to  Culpeper,  pre- 
paratory to  his  contemplated  invasion  of  the  North.  Our 
cavalry,  much  reduced  in  numbers  and  now  commanded  by 
General  Pleasonton,  was  ordered  to  make  a  reconnaissance  in 
that  direction,  and  on  June  eighth  had  a  successful  encounter 
with  the  enemy's  cavalry  at  Brandy  Station. 

All  became  activity  again  in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  The 
march  began  on  the  tenth,  some  corps  leaving  on  different 

291 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

days  and  by  divers  routes.  The  Fifth  Corps  left  on  the  four- 
teenth, following  the  familiar  route  by  way  of  Bealton, 
Warrenton  and  Manassas  on  the  Orange  and  Alexandria  Rail- 
road, which  we  had  traversed  the  previous  year  on  our  way 
to  reinforce  Pope.  Then  we  inclined  toward  the  Blue  Ridge, 
where  the  Rebel  Army  was  marching  north  through  the 
Shenandoah  Valley,  and  at  Aldie  we  began  to  hear  firing,  as  our 
cavalry  skirmished  with  the  enemy  at  the  mountain  gaps  of  the 
valley.  We  passed  Leesburg  on  our  way  to  Edwards  Ferry, 
where  we  crossed  the  Potomac  on  a  pontoon  bridge  into  Mary- 
land and  arrived  near  Frederick  City  about  the  twenty-seventh 
of  June.  The  weather  was  very  hot  and  we  made  long  marches. 
I  issued  rations  several  times  while  on  the  march  and  re-filled 
the  empty  wagons  at  Manassas.  The  route  of  the  train  was 
not  always  the  same  as  that  of  the  troops  and  we  did  some 
night  marching  to  make  up  for  lost  time  at  Manassas. 

Some-one  had  given  me  a  puppy,  while  in  the  winter  camp 
near  Fredericksburg,  which  I  had  raised.  He  was  then  more 
than  six  months  old,  and  was  much  attached  to  me,  following 
me  on  the  march.  When  tired,  he  would  beg  to  be  lifted  up 
and  ride  on  the  saddle  in  front  of  me.  He  hated  to  swim 
across  streams  which  we  forded  and  insisted  on  crossing  them 
on  horse-back.  When  we  arrived  at  the  Monocacy  river,  which 
we  forded  a  few  miles  from  Frederick  City,  our  supply  train, 
which  had  partly  passed,  was  stopped  to  allow  a  battery  of 
our  artillery  to  cross  ahead  of  the  balance  of  the  train.  The 
river  was  several  feet  deep,  had  a  swift  current  and  a  gravelly 
bottom.  I  sat  on  my  horse  on  the  river-bank,  watching  the 
battery  cross,  and  listening  to  the  crunching  noise  the  heavy 
wheels  made  in  the  stony  river-bed,  when  something  about  our 
train  on  the  other  side  caused  me  to  plunge  in  hastily  and 
cross  without  paying  any  attention  to  my  dog,  who  had  his 
forepaws  on  my  stirrup  and  was  waiting  to  be  pulled  up.  I 
heard  him  bark  behind  me,  and  when  I  had  crossed  I  turned 
around  and  saw  him  swimming  after  me ;  but  the  current  car- 
ried him  toward  one  of  the  passing  gun  carriages.  He  dis- 
appeared for  a  moment  among  the  wheels  and  then  came  up 

292 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

on  the  other  side,  emitting  unearthly  yells.  He  succeeded  in 
reaching  the  shore,  and  when  he  left  the  water  I  noticed  that 
all  but  a  few  inches  of  his  tail  had  been  pinched  off.  He  gave 
me  a  reproachful  look  and  started  up  a  road  like  a  streak.  I 
galloped  after  him,  calling  and  coaxing  him,  but  he  ran  on 
howling  and  paid  no  attention  to  me.  After  chasing  him  for 
half  a  mile,  he  ran  into  a  thicket  where  I  could  not  follow.  I 
never  saw  him  again.  I  felt  very  sorry  to  lose  him. 

We  remained  at  Frederick  City  for  two  days,  receiving  and 
issuing  rations.  There  was  some  militia  there,  hastily  called 
out  and  badly  armed — some  of  them  with  shot-guns.  The 
Seventh  Regiment  National  Guard  of  New  York  City  was  also 
there  for  another  thirty  days'  war  experience,  and  was  guard- 
ing Government  stores  at  the  railroad  depot.  They  looked  very 
jaunty  in  their  neat  and  unsoiled  uniforms,  some  of  them 
wearing  paper  collars,  forming  a  striking  contrast  to  the 
bronzed  and  begrimed  veterans  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac, 
from  whom  the  Seventh  had  to  endure  much  good-natured 
chaffing  in  passing. 

General  Hooker,  like  McClellan  in  the  Sharpsburg  cam- 
paign, requested  the  then  useless  garrison  of  ten  thousand  men 
at  Harper's  Ferry  to  be  added  to  his  command  in  the  pursuit 
of  Lee's  army,  and  was  refused  by  the  autocratic  General 
Halleck,  whose  chief  concern  seemed  to  be  the  safety  of 
Washington ;  and,  finding  himself  generally  thwarted  in  his 
plans  by  the  authorities  in  Washington,  he  requested  to  be 
relieved  of  the  command.  On  June  twenty-eighth,  while  still  at 
Frederick  City,  Major  General  George  G.  Meade  of  the  Fifth 
Army  Corps  was  appointed  as  the  commander  of  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac.  General  Hooker  was  sent  to  the  West,  where  he 
gained  some  fame  from  his  "battle  above  the  clouds"  at  Look- 
out Mountain. 

General  Meade  was  a  man  of  personal  bravery  and  experi- 
ence, highly  respected,  but  not  very  popular  in  the  army.  How- 
ever, the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  loyal  to  him,  as  it  had  been 
to  all  its  commanders,  and  the  soldiers  proved  their  loyalty  by 
tremendous  sacrifices.  It  has  been  said  that  this  fine  army 

293 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

was  always  better  than  its  commanders,  of  whom  General 
Meade  was  the  fifth  within  less  than  two  years.  McDowell,  Mc- 
Clellan,  Burnside  and  Hooker  preceded  him;  Pope  had  com- 
manded only  a  part  of  the  army  at  the  second  Bull  Run.  I 
have  always  held  the  opinion  that,  if  the  unfortunate  Army  of 
the  Potomac  could  have  had  General  William  T.  Sherman  for 
its  commander  in  its  earlier  days,  the  war  would  have  termi- 
nated successfully  for  the  North  much  sooner,  providing  he 
had  been  given  a  free  hand  to  plan  his  own  campaigns. 

Although  it  was  a  delicate  time  to  change  commanders  in 
the  presence  of  the  enemy,  not  a  ripple  occurred  to  disturb  the 
harmony  or  movements  of  the  army.  General  Meade  was  a 
favorite  with  General  Halleck  and  took  it  upon  himself  to 
break  up  the  garrison  at  Harper's  Ferry,  which  had  been 
denied  to  Hooker,  and  no  notice  was  taken  of  his  action  at 
Washington.  On  June  twenty-ninth  the  army,  which  had  been 
chiefly  concentrated  at  Frederick,  was  put  into  motion  on  sev- 
eral roads  towards  Gettysburg. 

General  M  cade's  promotion  caused  some  changes  in  the  Fifth 
Army  Corps;  General  Sykes  became  the  corps  commander; 
General  Romeyn  B.  Ay  res  commanded  the  Second  (Regular) 
Division ;  Colonel  Hannibal  Day  the  First,  and  Colonel  Sidney 
Burbank  the  Second  Brigade.  The  Third  (Volunteer)  Brigade 
was  in  command  of  General  Stephen  H.  Weed.  All  of  these 
commanders  were  good  and  experienced  officers,  who  had 
served  in  the  army  before  the  war. 

The  supply  train  of  the  Fifth  Corps  followed  the  troops  as 
far  as  Westminster,  about  twenty  miles  southeast  of  Gettys- 
burg, where  there  was  a  branch  railroad,  connecting  with  the 
main  road  from  Baltimore  to  Harrisburg.  An  engagement 
with  Stuart's  cavalry  had  taken  place  at  Westminster  on  the 
previous  day,  and  some  dead  horses  were  still  strewn  along 
the  road  and  the  streets  of  the  town.  The  train  was  kept  at 
Westminster  during  the  three  days'  battle  at  Gettysburg,  it  is 
said,  because  General  Meade  intended  to  fall  back  to  the  strong 
line  of  Pipe  Creek,  not  far  from  Westminster,  had  he  been 
unsuccessful.  On  the  third  day  of  the  battle  we  could  hear 

294 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

very  plainly  the  firing  of  the  two  hundred  and  thirty  guns, 
which  preceded  General  Pickett's  famous  charge  that  after- 
noon. On  the  evening  of  the  third  of  July  the  supply  train 
left  Westminster  and,  after  traveling  all  night,  arrived  at 
Gettysburg  on  July  fourth  and  halted  in  the  rear  of  Little 
Round  Top,  as  near  to  the  Fifth  Corps  as  we  could  get.  Here 
I  issued  rations  to  our  brigade  and  when  that  was  completed 
I  left  my  horse  with  the  train  and  ascended  Little  Round  Top 
to  view  the  great  battle-field.  It  commenced  to  rain  hard  soon 
after  and  continued  to  do  so  all  day.  My  view  was  very 
limited,  owing  to  the  rain,  but  I  could  see  burying  parties  at 
work  in  some  of  the  places  where  fierce  fighting  had  taken 
place. 

When  I  found  my  regiment  I  learned  that  Lieutenant  Good- 
rich had  been  killed,  three  officers  wounded,  five  soldiers  killed 
and  about  fifty  wounded.  The  losses  in  the  Fifth  Corps  had 
been  very  heavy  on  the  second  day's  battle.  The  corps  had 
arrived  on  the  field  early  that  morning. 

The  Fourth  of  July  passed  quietly,  both  armies  holding  their 
positions,  but  General  Lee  was  sending  his  trains  away ;  and  on 
the  morning  of  the  fifth  General  Meade  found  that  the  Rebel 
Army  had  disappeared — the  same  thing  that  had  happened  to 
McClellan  at  Antietam.  General  Lee  retreated  rapidly  by  the 
shortest  route  to  Williamsport  on  the  Potomac,  where  he  found 
his  pontoon  bridges  destroyed  and  the  river  so  high  from  recent 
rains  as  to  be  unfordable.  General  Meade  pursued  leisurely  by 
a  much  longer  route.  This  gave  the  Rebels  at  least  four  days' 
time  to  take  up  a  strong  position  and  fortify  it,  when  they 
discovered  that  they  could  not  cross  the  Potomac. 

The  Fifth  Corps  left  Gettysburg  on  the  afternoon  of 
the  fifth  of  July  and  moved  by  way  of  Emmittsburg  and  Mid- 
dletown  across  the  South  Mountain  range  at  Fox's  Gap  to 
Williamsport,  where  it  arrived  about  the  eleventh.  Part  of 
this  route  was  familiar  to  us,  as  we  had  gone  over  it  the 
previous  year.  General  Meade  directed  a  strong  reconnais- 
sance to  be  made  on  the  morning  of  the  fourteenth,  which 
developed  the  fact  that  the  enemy  had  slipped  across  the 

295 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Potomac  during  the  previous  night.  The  authorities  at  Wash- 
ington were  angry  at  the  escape  of  the  enemy  without  another 
battle;  and  the  army,  whose  hopes  had  been  raised  to  a  high 
pitch  by  their  victory  at  Gettysburg,  grumbled  audibly.  Gen- 
eral Meade  wrote  to  General  Halleck  asking  to  be  relieved  of 
the  command  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  but  his  request  was 
not  granted.  Military  critics  claim  that  in  allowing  Lee  to 
escape  from  Gettysburg  and  again  at  Williamsport,  General 
Meade  missed  the  greatest  opportunity  of  the  war  to  rout  the 
Rebel  Army  and  end  the  struggle  nearly  two  years  sooner. 

My  horse,  which  had  become  a  great  pet,  grew  fat  while 
traveling  through  the  rich  farming  lands  of  Maryland  and 
Pennsylvania,  where  there  was  an  abundance  of  the  finest 
clover  and  corn.  On  night  marches  I  often  snatched  a  little 
sleep  along  the  road  by  leaning  forward  in  the  saddle,  resting 
my  head  on  his  neck  and  encircling  it  with  my  arms.  Sometimes 
I  fell  asleep  sitting  up  straight  in  the  saddle  when  slowly 
jogging  along,  until  awakened  by  a  low  branch  of  a  roadside 
tree  brushing  my  face  or  knocking  off  my  cap.  At  such  times 
the  horse  seemed  to  be  asleep  also,  and  moved  along  mechan- 
ically. 

The  people  in  this  section  treated  the  soldiers  kindly;  some 
women  baked  bread  and  biscuits  to  give  away;  others  sold 
us  bread,  butter,  eggs  and  pies  at  most  reasonable  prices.  And 
how  good  that  bread  tasted !  I  remember  reporting  for  orders 
at  brigade  headquarters  camp  one  evening  when  the  officers 
were  having  supper  and  overhearing  the  General  remark  that 
he  would  like  to  marry  the  woman  who  baked  the  bread  he  was 
eating,  no  matter  what  her  looks  might  be.  In  some  of  the 
small  villages  and  farmhouses  the  natives  understood  but  little 
English  and  spoke  only  Pennsylvania  Dutch. 

General  Meade  put  the  army  in  motion  on  the  fifteenth  of 
July  for  Harper's  Ferry,  where  we  crossed  the  Potomac,  and 
I  had  an  opportunity  to  see  John  Brown's  Fort.  Some  of  the 
troops  crossed  at  Berlin,  about  six  miles  below.  We  marched 
east  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  over  much  of  the  same  road  McClellan 
had  traveled  the  previous  fall,  while  the  Rebels  passed  down 

296 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

the  Shenandoah  Valley,  guarding  all  the  passes.  At  Manassas 
Gap  the  Confederates  were  overtaken  and  an  attempt  was 
made  to  bring  on  an  engagement,  which  resulted  in  a  lively 
skirmish  until  darkness  came  on,  but  next  morning  the  enemy 
had  disappeared.  We  resumed  our  march  leisurely,  by  way  of 
Warrenton,  and  about  the  sixth  of  August  went  into  permanent 
camp  at  Beverly  Ford  on  the  Rappahannock,  drawing  our  sup- 
plies from  Culpeper  on  the  Orange  and  Alexandria  railroad. 

While  on  this  march,  near  Centreville,  we  noticed  a  horse  in 
a  field  some  distance  off  the  road.  His  condition  was  deplor- 
able, he  hobbled  most  painfully,  and  I  suppose  the  greater  part 
of  the  army  had  seen  him  in  passing,  but  no  one  cared  to  have 
such  a  lame  and  sorry-looking  animal.  One  of  my  men  was 
curious  enough  to  go  out  into  the  field  to  look  at  him,  and  dis- 
covered that  his  foot  was  wedged  fast  into  an  empty  tomato 
can ;  and  when  that  was  removed  he  was  no  longer  lame.  The 
horse  was  cleaned  and  fed  and  became  a  useful  extra  riding- 
horse.  He  was  known  by  the  name  of  "Centreville." 

About  this  time  we  read  in  the  papers  about  serious  riots  in 
New  York  city  called  the  "Draft  Riots."  Congress  had  passed 
an  act  to  enroll  all  available  citizens  of  the  loyal  states  for 
military  duty,  to  enable  the  states  to  furnish  their  quota,  when 
called  upon  for  additional  troops  by  the  Government.  Names 
were  to  be  drawn  by  lottery,  and  each  man  so  drawn  was  to 
serve  in  the  army  or  furnish  an  acceptable  substitute.  This 
had  to  be  done ;  all  the  two-year  volunteers  had  been  discharged 
and,  after  the  defeats  at  Fredericksburg  and  Chancellorsville, 
there  were  few  voluntary  enlistments.  The  regulars  were  un- 
able to  obtain  any  recruits  to  fill  up  their  skeleton  regiments, 
owing  to  county  and  town  bounties  offered  for  volunteers.  The 
riots  in  New  York  had  been  controlled  for  the  time  being,  but 
there  was  much  uneasiness  in  the  city  as  to  what  would  occur 
when  the  actual  drawing  of  names  began,  for  the  Government 
needed  soldiers  and  was  bound  to  enforce  the  draft.  It  was 
therefore  decided  to  send  the  two  small  brigades  of  regulars 
and  a  few  volunteer  regiments  to  New  York  city  to  report 
there  for  duty  to  General  John  A.  Dix,  commanding  the  Depart- 
ment of  the  East. 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Accordingly  on  August  thirteenth  the  troops  destined  for 
New  York  city,  under  the  command  of  General  R.  B.  Ayres, 
left  their  camps  for  Alexandria,  some  of  the  soldiers  going  on 
freight-cars  from  Culpeper,  while  others  marched  with  the 
supply  train  to  Alexandria.  On  our  arrival  there,  after  issuing 
rations,  I  was  ordered  to  turn  over  all  Government  property  to 
the  depot  commissary,  make  out  transfers  and  take  receipts  for 
it  for  Lieutenant  Greeley.  It  cost  me  a  severe  pang  to  part  with 
my  horse  Tommy,  to  whom  I  had  become  much  attached.  He 
was  so  gentle  that  often  after  a  hard  march  when  he  was 
unsaddled  and  fed  he  would  lie  on  the  grass  and  I  would  lie 
down  with  him,  resting  my  head  on  his  neck  and  we  would 
both  go  to  sleep. 

My  little  staff  of  assistants  was  dispersed  and  sent  to  their 
companies;  and  so  was  I,  but  not  to  do  duty  with  them,  only 
to  be  accounted  for.  I  was  still  brigade  commissary  sergeant 
and  was  to  be  at  Lieutenant  Greeley 's  call  when  needed.  We 
had  to  wait  for  transportation  in  Alexandria,  where  my  regi- 
ment was  on  a  block  in  a  private  street.  We  stacked  arms  in 
the  street,  and  in  the  daytime  sat  on  the  curbstone  under  the 
shade  trees  or  loafed  about  the  neighborhood.  We  did  our 
cooking  by  little  fires  in  the  street  and  at  night  lay  down  on  the 
brick  sidewalks  in  front  of  the  houses.  This  we  did  for  two 
nights.  Fortunately  it  did  not  rain.  In  the  house  before  which 
my  company  was  stationed  there  were  some  ladies  who  had  a 
piano  and  they  sang  secession  songs  after  dark ;  and  we  retali- 
ated by  singing  all  the  Union  songs  we  knew.  They  kept  their 
blinds  closed  and  we  saw  none  but  negro  servants  enter  or 
leave  the  house  while  we  were  there.  On  the  third  day  we 
marched  to  the  wharf  and  embarked  on  a  freight  steamer — 
the  worst  old  tub  I  was  ever  on !  As  usual,  we  were  crowded 
and  I  prefered  to  remain  on  deck  and  camped  near  one  of  the 
masts.  This  steamer  was  a  very  slow  propeller.  The  weather 
was  fine  and  we  got  along  fairly  well  down  the  Potomac  and 
the  Chesapeake  Bay,  until  we  passed  the  Capes  and  entered 
the  Atlantic,  when  we  discovered  that  she  was  a  high-roller  and 
hadn't  ballast  enough.  Soon  more  than  half  of  the  command 

298 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

was  seasick.  The  ship  had  no  bulwarks,  only  an  open  pipe 
railing  through  which  it  would  be  quite  easy  to  roll  over-board. 
As  I  was  not  seasick  I  remained  on  deck,  taking  the  precaution 
to  tie  myself  to  the  mast  in  the  night-time.  We  were  a  long 
time  getting  to  New  York,  where  we  arrived  in  the  middle  of 
the  day  and  landed  at  a  dock  at  the  foot  of  Canal  Street. 

Parts  of  our  brigades,  who  were  on  faster  boats,  had  arrived 
on  the  preceding  day.  The  command  was  scattered  throughout 
the  city ;  some  regiments  encamped  in  Battery  Park ;  others  in 
Washington,  Union,  Madison  and  Tompkins  Squares.  Some 
companies  were  stationed  on  the  upper  part  of  Fourth  Avenue 
along  the  New  Haven  Railroad  tracks  and  elsewhere.  My 
regiment  and  another  encamped  on  the  block  bounded  by  Fifth 
and  Sixth  Avenues,  Forty-eighth  and  Forty-ninth  Streets. 
This  block  was  vacant  except  for  a  row  of  four-story  buildings 
on  the  Sixth  Avenue  side,  still  standing.  The  block  had  been 
filled  in  and  graded  fairly  level  a  few  feet  above  the  street,  and 
had  a  picket  fence  on  the  other  three  sides.  There  were  few 
houses  in  the  neighborhood;  close  by,  on  Fifth  Avenue,  were 
the  foundations  of  St.  Patrick's  Cathedral  which  had  just  been 
begun.  The  nearest  horse-car  line  was  on  Sixth  Avenue,  where 
we  noticed  an  occasional  car,  smaller  than  the  others  and 
painted  yellow,  bearing  a  sign  in  large  letters,  on  either  side  of 
the  car,  which  read :  "Colored  people  allowed  in  this  car." 

We  left  the  dock  at  Canal  Street  during  the  afternoon  and 
marched  up-town  by  way  of  Hudson  Street,  up  Sixth  Avenue 
to  our  destination  at  Fifth  Avenue  and  Forty-ninth  Street, 
where  the  men  were  obliged  to  sleep  on  the  ground  without 
tents  that  night.  I  went  to  my  home.  We  still  had  our  band, 
though  reduced  in  numbers.  It  played  during  our  march  up- 
town, and  we  had  many  spectators  and  the  usual  juvenile  fol- 
lowing. We  did  not  look  as  pretty  as  the  militia  the  people 
had  been  accustomed  to  see;  we  were  sunburnt,  dirty  and 
ragged-looking;  but,  nevertheless,  we  received  many  cheers  on 
the  way.  The  arrival  of  the  soldiers  from  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  restored  peace  of  mind  to  many  people  in  New  York 
and  allayed  their  fears  of  rioting  and  destruction  of  property, 

299 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

while  enforcing  the  draft.  No  disturbance  occurred  while 
that  went  on ;  if  there  had  been,  the  rioters  would  have  received 
a  severe  lesson,  for  we  had  no  sympathy  for  them. 

The  next  day  was  a  busy  one  in  camp;  tents  were  received 
and  put  up ;  sinks  were  dug  and  a  water  supply  arranged  for ; 
and  guards  were  posted  at  the  gates  to  keep  the  soldiers  in  and 
the  overwhelming  public  out.  Crowds  of  people,  who  seemed 
to  have  nothing  else  to  do,  lined  the  fence  and  crowded  the 
sidewalks  from  reveille  to  tattoo,  watching  the  soldiers.  In 
the  afternoons  the  nursery-maids  with  their  baby  carriages 
appeared,  and  were  made  love  to  by  the  soldiers  on  the  other 
side  of  the  fence  and  forgot  their  charges.  At  sunset,  when 
dress  parade  took  place  and  the  band  played,  the  sidewalks 
around  the  camp  were  impassable.  At  night  such  of  the  soldiers 
as  were  fortunate  enough  to  possess  any  money  and  had  not 
obtained  a  pass  jumped  the  low  fence  where  it  was  not  guarded 
and  remained  away  until  the  small  hours.  The  commander 
was  liberal  in  granting  daily  passes  to  a  certain  number  to  be 
absent  from  camp. 

Lieutenant  Greeley  made  a  contract  with  one  of  the  many 
caterers  who  supplied  food  to  the  conscripts,  substitutes  and 
recruits  while  they  were  in  the  city  to  provide  cooked  rations 
for  three  meals  per  day  for  our  brigade  for  the  Government 
money  value  of  a  soldier's  rations,  as  computed  in  New  York 
city.  This  proved  unsatisfactory  from  the  start,  the  food 
being  poor  and  insufficient  and  often  cold — being  served  by 
wagons,  and  at  irregular  times.  In  a  few  days  the  contract 
was  cancelled  and  each  company  drew  its  rations  direct  from 
the  New  York  commissary  on  Stone  Street,  and  were  furnished 
cooking  utensils  and  fire-wood  to  cook  their  own  rations  in 
camp.  This  proved  to  be  another  very  interesting  item  to  the 
loiterers  about  the  camp,  watching  the  cooking  and  serving  of 
meals  for  the  soldiers.  Lieutenant  Greeley  gave  me  the  names 
and  addresses  of  a  few  prominent  bakers  in  the  city,  whom  I 
was  to  interview  with  regard  to  obtaining  fresh  bread  for  the 
brigade.  Among  them  I  found  one  named  Wall,  at  that  time 
located  on  the  lower  part  of  Sixth  Avenue,  or  on  Carmine 

300 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Street,  who  agreed  to  give  us  eighteen  ounces  of  good  whole- 
some bread  for  the  daily  Government  allowance  of  eighteen 
ounces  of  flour,  or  its  money  value — which  offer  was  accepted. 
I  now  had  no  duties  of  any  kind  to  perform,  except  to  see  that 
the  baker  kept  up  the  weight  of  his  loaves,  and  I  was  absolutely 
free  to  come  and  go,  when  and  where  I  pleased,  during  our 
three  weeks'  stay  in  New  York.  I  had  some  money  with  me, 
also  some  at  home,  where  I  had  at  times  sent  part  of  my  pay.  I 
took  advantage  of  this  short  opportunity  after  the  arduous 
field  service  to  enjoy  myself  as  much  as  possible. 

The  brigade's  headquarters  were  in  Madison  Square,  which 
at  that  time  was  enclosed  by  an  iron  fence  set  on  a  granite 
coping,  and  around  this  the  crowds  were  even  denser  than  in 
my  own  camp.  Here  the  Fourteenth  Infantry  and  some  other 
troops  were  encamped.  And  here  Lieutenant  Greeley,  to  whom 
I  reported  almost  daily,  had  his  tent.  The  proprietors  of  the 
Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  opposite  Madison  Square,  generously 
furnished  meals  for  the  officers  in  this  camp  free  of  charge 
during  their  stay.  Sergeant  William  J.  Milligan  of  the  Sixth 
Infantry,  who  was  acting  as  brigade  quartermaster  sergeant, 
and  who  was  an  old  bunkie  of  mine  at  Governor's  Island,  had 
his  tent  here,  where  I  slept  much  oftener  than  I  did  in  my  own 
camp.  The  tent  was  under  a  large  tree,  facing  the  main 
entrance  of  the  hotel,  and  I  believe  that  I  can  still  point  out 
the  tree. 

The  drawing  for  conscripts  to  fill  New  York  city's  quota  for 
the  Government's  call  for  troops  was  completed  without  any 
trouble,  and  one  morning  in  September,  after  a  three  weeks' 
stay,  we  were  ordered,  much  to  our  regret,  to  strike  tents  and 
prepare  to  return  to  the  field  again.  A  paymaster  appeared  in 
camp  very  early  and  gave  us  four  month's  pay,  which  was  due 
us,  and  which,  I  believe,  had  been  purposely  withheld  until  the 
day  of  our  departure.  As  we  were  not  to  leave  until  sometime 
in  the  afternoon,  I  had  plenty  of  time  to  say  good-by  at  home 
and  farewell  to  my  friend,  Sergeant  Milligan,  for  his  regiment, 
the  Sixth  Infantry,  was  ordered  to  Fort  Hamilton  in  New 
York  Harbor  and  did  not  go  to  the  field  again  during  the  war. 

301 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

All  of  the  old  infantry  regiments — the  Third,  Fourth,  Seventh 
and  Tenth — all  mere  skeletons,  were  retained  in  the  forts 
around  New  York.  For  some  reason  the  Second  Infantry, 
consisting  of  six  companies,  not  half  full,  had  to  go  back  to  the 
field  again,  along  with  the  newer  and  larger  regiments,  the 
Eleventh,  Twelfth,  Fourteenth  and  Seventeenth  Infantry. 

We  sat  around,  ready  and  waiting  for  the  order  to  start,  but 
it  was  well  along  towards  evening  before  we  left  camp  and 
marched  down  Sixth  Avenue  to  Canal  Street,  the  way  we  had 
come.  Only  about  one-half  of  our  officers  marched  with  us; 
the  others  were  probably  having  farewell  dinners  and  knew  that 
the  steamer  would  not  leave  until  daylight  next  morning.  Many 
of  our  men  did  not  have  a  cent  when  they  arrived.  The  four 
months'  pay  was  burning  holes  in  their  pockets,  and  they  were 
tempted  to  have  a  little  fling  before  going  back  to  Virginia.  The 
streets  were  packed  with  people  and  it  was  quite  easy  to  dodge 
into  the  crowd  and  disappear  quickly  through  the  open  door 
of  some  corner  saloon  without  attracting  the  attention  of  the 
officers.  By  the  time  we  reached  Canal  Street  it  was  dusk  and 
many  slipped  away  before  we  reached  the  dock.  When  the 
roll  was  called,  it  was  discovered  that  more  than  forty  men 
were  missing,  among  them  the  drum-major,  Lovell,  and  one 
of  the  color  sergeants,  named  McConnell,  who  had  the  regi- 
mental colors  with  him.  A  detail  was  sent  out  to  round  up 
the  absentees ;  but  after  a  search  of  several  hours,  they  had 
only  captured  half  a  dozen.  As  many  more  came  back  of  their 
own  accord,  in  a  more  or  less  muddled  condition,  and  when  the 
steamer  sailed  in  the  morning  about  thirty  men  were  still  miss- 
ing. All  but  two  or  three  of  these  men  rejoined  the  regiment 
about  a  week  later  in  Alexandria.  When  they  finished  their 
spree,  or  their  money  gave  out,  they  reported  to  the  provost- 
marshal,  who  held  them  and  sent  them  on.  They  had  a  hard 
time  on  the  steamer  with  a  disreputable  lot  of  conscripts  and 
substitutes,  who  were  thievish  and  quarrelsome.  The  drum- 
major  related  that  he  was  awakened  on  deck  one  night  by  a 
man  going  through  his  pockets.  He  said  to  the  thief,  "Friend, 
if  you  can  find  anything  there,  you  are  welcome  to  it !"  Our 

302 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

colors  remained  for  two  days  in  a  hotel  on  Canal  Street,  but 
were  brought  safely  back.  My  regiment  had  to  submit  to  a  lot 
of  jollying  from  the  other  troops  about  losing  one  of  our  colors 
in  New  York;  but  we  never  lost  them  to  the  enemy,  neither 
did  any  other  regular  regiment  in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac. 
It  was  supposed  that  these  men  would  all  be  tried  by  court- 
martial  for  absence  without  leave,  but  directly  after  our  return 
to  the  field  in  the  latter  part  of  September,  General  Lee  at- 
tempted a  flank  movement  which  kept  our  army  very  busy 
marching  for  some  time.  These  were  all  good  and  faithful 
soldiers,  and  instead  of  a  court-martial  a  general  order  was 
issued  fining  each  man  a  month's  pay. 

The  return  trip  of  the  regiment  to  Alexandria  was  unevent- 
ful. We  had  a  better  boat  and  made  a  quicker  trip  than  we  did 
going  up  to  New  York.  The  two  regular  brigades  remained 
long  enough  in  Alexandria  to  be  refitted  with  a  supply  train 
and  other  necessities.  I  resumed  my  former  duties  under  a 
new  commissary  officer,  First  Lieutenant  James  B.  Sinclair  of 
the  Fourteenth  United  States  Infantry.  Of  my  former  detail 
I  had  but  one,  all  the  others  being  new  men.  I  could  not  get 
my  old  horse  back  and  had  to  take  another  which  was  not 
nearly  so  good.  The  two  brigades  then  joined  the  main  army 
near  Culpeper,  about  the  time  when  the  Eleventh  and  Twelfth 
Corps  were  withdrawn  from  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  to 
serve  in  the  West.  The  Rebel  Army  had  also  been  reduced 
during  the  summer  by  sending  Longstreet's  corps  to  Tennessee. 

When  General  Lee  learned  of  the  departure  of  two  of  our 
Army  Corps,  he  put  his  troops  in  motion  to  turn  our  right 
flank  and  rear.  This  was  the  beginning  of  a  campaign  of 
manoeuvres  between  Generals  Meade  and  Lee,  like  the  moves 
in  a  game  of  chess.  We  crossed  the  Rappahannock  and  for 
about  two  weeks  we  marched  and  counter-marched  along  the 
familiar  line  of  the  Orange  and  Alexandria  railroad,  the  supply 
trains  along  with  the  troops,  until  by  forced  marching  we 
reached  Centre ville  ahead  of  the  enemy,  where  General  Meade 
offered  battle.  General  Lee  retreated,  however,  south  of  the 
Rappahannock,  destroying  the  railroad  and  burning  the  sta- 
tions from  Bristoe  to  the  Rappahannock. 

303 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

For  some  days  we  were  prevented  from  following  him  by 
a  heavy  rainstorm  which  made  Bull  Run  unfordable  and  pon- 
toons had  to  be  sent  for.  During  these  marches  in  the  latter 
part  of  September,  1863,  we  passed  one  morning  through  the 
almost  deserted  small  town  of  Brentsville,  the  county-seat  of 
Prince  William  County,  Virginia.  The  street  in  front  of  the 
court  house  was  littered  with  books  or  records  and  bundles  of 
papers  which  had  been  maliciously  thrown  out  through  the 
open  door  and  windows,  probably  by  some  of  our  stragglers, 
or  "coffee-coolers,"  as  they  were  also  called.  I  dismounted  and 
examined  some  of  the  books  which  I  found  to  contain  mainly 
records  of  wills  and  transfers  of  property.  Some  of  these 
books  and  papers  were  being  carried  off  by  passing  soldiers 
who,  when  they  examined  them  at  the  next  halt,  either  threw 
them  away  or  built  fires  with  them.  I  picked  up  a  few  bundles 
of  the  papers  and  carried  them  with  me  until  I  got  to  camp, 
where  I  examined  them.  The  greater  part  of  them  proved  to 
be  written  consents  from  masters  for  his  slaves,  "Caesar  and 
Dinah"  or  "Rastus  and  Lucy"  to  get  married.  No  surnames 
seemed  to  be  used  for  the  slaves.  Among  the  papers  there  was 
one,  however,  which  interested  me  and  is  still  in  my  possession. 
It  is  a  writ  for  the  arrest  of  William  Murphy,  as  follows : 

George  the  second  by  the  grace  of  God  of  great  Britain, 
France  &  Ireland,  King  Defender  of  the  Faith  &  .c.  To  the 
sheriff  of  the  County  of  Prince  William  Greeting.  We 

command  You  that  You  take  William  Murphy 

if  he  be  found  within  your  Bailivic  and  him  safely  keep  so  that 
you  have  his  Body  before  our  H  Justices  of  our  said  County 
at  the  Court  house  of  the  said  County  on  the  fourth  monday 

..in.. July next  to   answer Benjamin  Grayson   Gent  of 

a  plea  of  Trespass  upon  the  Case,  Damage  ten  pounds 

and  have  then  there  this  writ  witness  Peter  Wagener  Clerk 
of  our  said  Court  at  the  Court  house  of  aforesaid  the  XXIII 

day  of  June  in  the  XXVIth  year  of  our  reign  1752 

P.  Wagener. 

On  the  reverse  side  of  the  paper  is  this  endorsement : 

Not  to  be  found  within  my  Precinct. 

John   Crump 

This  paper,  yellow  with  age  but  well  preserved,  is  five  by 
six  inches  in  size.  It  is  a  coarsely  executed  pen  blank  with  the 

304 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

words  in  italics  inserted  in  fine  clear  penmanship.  John  Crump's 
endorsement  is  written  in  a  good  plain  running  hand. 


The  army  now  took  up  positions  along  the  north  bank  of  the 
Rappahannock,  where  we  encamped  for  two  weeks  or  more, 
while  the  railroad  was  being  repaired ;  and  during  that  time  we 
had  to  haul  supplies  from  Bristoe  Station  until  the  repairs 
brought  them  nearer.  A  number  of  skirmishes  took  place 
during  the  two  weeks  of  manoeuvring,  but  no  battles  were 
fought. 

While  at  this  camp  I  witnessed  the  impressive  sight  of  a 
military  execution.  A  man  from  one  of  the  new  regular  regi- 
ments had  been  sentenced  by  a  general  court-martial  to  be  shot 
for  desertion.  Near  sun-down  the  brigade  was  paraded  and 
formed  three  sides  of  a  square  on  a  level  field  outside  of  the 
camp.  At  the  open  end  of  the  square  was  a  rude  coffin  and 
a  newly  made  grave.  Soon  the  prisoner  and  provost-guard 
approached,  preceded  by  a  band  playing  a  dead  march,  passing 
through  the  square  towards  the  coffin.  There  the  prisoner, 
whose  bearing  was  firm  and  steady,  was  blindfolded  and  made 
to  kneel  on  the  coffin.  A  firing  party  of  eight  took  position  in 
front  of  the  condemned  man  at  about  ten  paces.  There  was  a 
breathless  silence  for  a  few  minutes,  then  suddenly  were  heard 
the  provost-marshal's  commands,  "Ready!  Aim!  Fire!"  and 
the  man  fell  forward  over  the  coffin.  A  surgeon  examined 
him  and  pronounced  him  dead;  the  brigade  marched  back  to 
camp,  and  the  man  was  buried  in  the  grave  prepared  for  him. 

On  the  seventh  day  of  November  General  Meade  again  put 
the  army  in  motion  to  force  the  passage  of  the  Rappahannock. 
At  Rappahannock  Station,  where  the  Rebels  were  intrenched, 
there  was  a  spirited  engagement,  when  the  Sixth  Corps  charged 
the  works  and  captured  about  sixteen  hundred  prisoners  with 
small  loss  to  themselves.  The  Third  Corps  was  also  successful 
in  forcing  a  passage  at  Kelly's  Ford  and  capturing  some  four 
hundred  prisoners.  The  Confederates,  taken  by  surprise,  re- 
tired during  the  night  beyond  Culpeper. 

305 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Next  day  the  supply  trains  crossed  at  Kelly's  Ford  and  the 
army  went  into  camp  from  there  to  Brandy  Station.  The  rail- 
road had  to  be  repaired  as  far  as  Brandy  Station,  and  an  im- 
portant railroad  bridge  crossing  the  Rappahannock  rebuilt, 
which  consumed  considerable  time.  We  supposed  that  this  was 
to  be  our  winter  camp,  as  the  weather  grew  very  bad  and  cold, 
as  the  season  advanced,  and  the  road  became  worse,  but  it  was 
not  to  be  so.  The  authorities  at  Washington,  unmindful  of  the 
disastrous  ending  of  Burnside's  winter  campaigns  the  previous 
year,  urged  upon  General  Meade  to  continue  offensive  opera- 
tions. Accordingly  General  Meade  on  the  twenty-sixth  of 
November,  after  a  severe  storm,  broke  up  the  camps  and  started 
the  army  on  its  march  to  the  fords  of  the  Rapidan. 

The  Fifth  Army  Corps  crossed  the  river  on  a  pontoon  bridge 
at  a  place  called  Culpeper  Mine  Ford  on  the  same  day,  all  of 
the  supply  trains,  except  some  ammunition  wagons,  remaining 
on  the  north  side  of  the  river.  On  the  twenty-eighth  it  was 
discovered  that  a  surprise  was  out  of  the  question,  the  enemy 
having  concentrated  all  their  forces  in  a  strong  position  on  the 
west  bank  of  Mine  Run. 

General  Warren,  who  had  commanded  the  Second  Corps 
since  General  Hancock  had  been  wounded  at  Gettysburg,  was 
ordered  to  make  the  main  attack  on  the  morning  of  the 
thirtieth.  He  made  an  early  examination  of  the  enemy's 
works  and  had  the  moral  courage  to  suspend  General  Meade's 
order  to  attack,  sending  him  word  to  that  effect.  This  brought 
General  Meade  to  make  a  personal  examination,  after  which  he 
agreed  with  General  Warren  as  to  the  hopelessness  of  the  at- 
tempt. The  men  of  the  Second  Corps  realized  that  they  were 
to  attack  a  position  as  hopeless  as  that  at  Marye's  Heights  at 
Fredericksburg  and  knew  that  few  would  escape.  The  night 
before  the  attack  was  to  be  made  each  man  wrote  his  name, 
company  and  regiment  on  a  piece  of  paper  and  pinned  it  to  his 
clothing. 

On  the  same  night  I  was  sent  across  the  river  with  a  few 
supply  wagons  and  reached  the  front  early  in  the  forenoon, 
when  I  issued  the  rations  and  rested  a  few  hours.  I  had  a  good 

306 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

view  of  a  part  of  the  Rebel  position,  which  appeared  very 
formidable,  in  front  of  the  Fifth  Corps.  On  my  return  march 
in  the  afternoon  a  cold  rain-storm  came  on,  turning  to  sleet; 
then  it  became  so  cold  that  my  saturated  clothing  was  frozen 
stiff  before  I  reached  camp.  The  sufferings  of  the  soldiers 
before  the  enemy  was  dreadful.  The  next  day  General  Meade 
decided  that  the  campaign  was  a  failure  and  began  to  withdraw 
the  army,  which  recrossed  the  Rapidan  unmolested  and,  thanks 
to  General  Warren,  without  a  useless  slaughter,  as  in  the 
Burnside  campaign  of  the  previous  winter. 

This  ended  active  operations  in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  for 
1863.  The  troops  established  winter  camps;  the  Fifth  Corps 
guarded  and  was  encamped  along  the  line  of  the  Orange  and 
Alexandria  railroad,  by  brigades  stationed  at  intervals  from 
Fairfax  to  Brandy  Station.  The  headquarters  of  my  brigade 
were  at  Noakesville  Station,  a  small  place  no  longer  on  the 
map.  Colonel  Burbank,  who  commanded  the  brigade,  and 
staff  occupied  a  large  farm-house  situated  a  few  hundred  yards 
east  of  the  little  station  on  a  hill.  A  small  two-story  out-house 
was  assigned  to  the  brigade  commissary  and  quartermaster 
departments.  A  few  regiments  of  the  brigade  were  encamped 
in  the  immediate  vicinity,  where  they  made  themselves  com- 
fortable in  their  winter  huts.  I  rigged  up  a  store-house  and, 
together  with  the  quartermaster  sergeant  and  our  assistants, 
used  the  little  two-story  house  as  an  office  and  for  our  sleeping 
quarters.  The  house  had  a  good  roof,  a  fireplace  and  chimney. 
There  was  plenty  of  wood  and  we  were  warm  and  comfortable. 
My  horse  was  stabled  along  with  the  brigade  staff  horses  in 
one  of  the  farm  stables. 

The  commissary  depot  for  the  Fifth  Corps  was  at  Catlett's 
Station,  about  five  miles  from  our  camp.  I  was  sent  there  once 
a  week  with  a  wagon-train  to  draw  supplies  for  the  brigade, 
and  was  always  accompanied  by  an  infantry  escort,  as  there 
were  guerrillas  about.  One  morning  as  I  was  starting  off  with 
my  train,  Captain  Samuel  A.  McKee,  of  my  regiment,  and 
Lieutenant  Edwin  E.  Sellers,  of  the  Tenth  United  States 
Infantry,  who,  with  an  orderly,  were  going  to  Catlett's  Station, 

307 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

asked  me  to  ride  with  them  in  advance  of  my  train.  They  soon 
began  to  ride  very  fast  and  I  found  that  my  horse  could  not 
keep  up  with  theirs;  frequently  they  were  out  of  sight  and  I 
was  a  quarter  of  a  mile  behind  in  the  lonely  woods.  Then  I 
thought  of  the  guerrillas,  but  we  arrived  safely  at  the  station. 
About  a  week  later,  April  eleventh,  1864,  Captain  McKee, 
accompanied  by  an  orderly,  made  the  same  journey  and  was 
shot  dead  on  his  way  to  Catlett's;  his  body  was  found  lying 
on  the  road,  stripped  of  his  arms  and  valuables  and  most  of  his 
clothing.  The  orderly  escaped. 

About  this  time  many  brevet  ranks  were  conferred  on  offi- 
cers— the  greater  part  of  them  for  gallantry  in  the  field ;  others 
for  efficiency  in  various  lines  of  duty ;  and  some  for  no  particu- 
lar reason  that  anyone  could  discover.  So  generous  was  the 
War  Department  in  distributing  brevet  ranks  that  they  seemed 
to  lose  dignity  and  sometimes  became  a  joke.  The  army  mule 
was  dubbed  a  "brevet  horse"  and  the  camp  follower  became  a 
"brevet  soldier."  Some  officers  were  advanced  several  grades 
above  their  lineal  rank  by  supplementary  brevets.  It  was  no 
uncommon  occurrence  to  find  a  lieutenant  who  was  a  brevet 
major  or  colonel;  and  I  know  of  a  few  cases  where  first  lieu- 
tenants held  the  honorary  rank  of  brigadier-general. 

Lieutenant  Sinclair,  the  commissary  officer,  was  an  easy- 
going, very  pleasant  man,  much  liked  by  both  officers  and 
soldiers.  He  was  a  first  lieutenant  and  brevet  major — a  very 
brave  officer,  who  had  the  peculiar  experience  of  being 
wounded  in  the  same  leg  in  three  different  engagements,  but 
never  very  seriously — each  time  able  to  resume  his  duties 
after  being  discharged  from  the  hospital.  He  remained  in  the 
service  for  some  years  after  the  war.  Lieutenant  Sinclair  was 
a  New  Yorker.  He  had  been  with  the  Singer  Sewing  Machine 
Co.  before  the  war. 

During  this  winter  and  spring  a  large  number  of  recruits 
joined  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  among  them  many  conscripts 
and  substitutes,  who  as  a  class  were  not  the  equals  of  volun- 
teers of  1861  and  1862.  The  armies  needed  still  more  men  and 
on  February  first  President  Lincoln  ordered  a  draft  for  five 

308 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

hundred  thousand  men  to  be  held  on  March  tenth,  and  another 
on  March  fifteenth  for  two  hundred  thousand  more,  to  be 
held  April  fifteenth,  1864.  Recruiting  for  the  regular  army 
almost  ceased,  owing  to  the  large  bounties  paid  for  substitutes, 
and  the  fact  that  the  enlistments  among  the  volunteers  were 
only  for  three  years,  or  the  duration  of  the  war.  I  had  a  short 
furlough  at  this  time  and  spent  four  days  very  pleasantly  in 
Washington  with  comrades  of  my  regiment,  who  had  been 
detailed  as  clerks  in  the  War  Department  or  were  employed  as 
civilians  after  their  discharge  from  the  army. 

On  March  twelfth,  1864,  Lieutenant  General  U.  S.  Grant 
was  made  commander-in-chief  of  all  the  armies  of  the  United 
States,  deposing  General  Halleck,  to  the  great  satisfaction  of 
many  of  the  officers  and  the  rank  and  file  in  the  armies.  Gen- 
eral Grant  visited  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  for  a  few  days  in 
March,  consulting  General  Meade,  its  commander.  Soon 
after  many  changes  and  consolidations  were  ordered.  The 
five  corps  were  reduced  to  three,  viz:  the  Second,  Fifth  and 
Sixth,  commanded  respectively  by  Generals  Hancock,  Warren 
and  Sedgwick.  The  Fifth  Corps  lost  its  old  commander,  that 
sterling  old  soldier,  Major  General  George  Sykes,  who  had 
commanded  the  regular  brigade  at  the  beginning  of  the  war 
and  had  risen  to  the  command  of  the  Fifth  Army  Corps.  We 
lost  him  with  profound  feelings  of  regret,  which  were  only 
compensated  by  the  confidence  we  had  in  Major  General 
Gouverneur  K.  Warren,  who  had  long  been  a  brigade  and 
division  commander  of  the  corps.  Skeleton  companies  and 
regiments  were  consolidated,  brigades  and  divisions  were 
enlarged.  All  of  the  regular  infantry  soldiers  who  remained 
in  the  field  at  this  time  were  placed  in  the  First  Brigade  of  the 
First  Division  of  the  Fifth  Corps,  along  with  four  regiments  of 
volunteers ;  the  One  Hundred  and  Fortieth  and  One  Hundred 
and  Forty-sixth  New  York  and  the  Ninety-first  and  One  Hun- 
dred and  Fifty-fifth  Pennsylvania,  which  when  combined,  out- 
numbered the  regulars  considerably.  Brigadier-General 
Romeyn  B.  Ay  res,  an  old  regular  artillery  officer,  commanded 
the  brigade. 

309 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

General  Meade  remained  in  the  immediate  command  of  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac,  now  increased  to  ninety-nine  thousand, 
four  hundred  and  thirty-eight  officers  and  enlisted  men  present 
for  duty,  equipped ;  while  General  Lee's  army,  composed  of  the 
corps  of  Longstreet,  Ewel  and  Hill,  with  Stuart's  cavalry,  was 
estimated  to  number  about  sixty-two  thousand. 

General  Grant  arrived  on  April  twenty-sixth  and  established 
his  headquarters  at  Culpeper ;  with  his  coming  preparations  for 
a  forward  movement  were  begun ;  there  was  bustle  and  tumult 
in  all  the  camps,  and  a  week  later,  May  fourth,  the  Fifth  Corps 
crossed  the  Rapidan  with  the  Second  Division  in  the  lead 
preceded  by  a  division  of  cavalry. 


310 


PART  XIII. 
IN  GRANT'S  CAMPAIGN — 1864. 

A7EW  days  before  the  breaking  up  of  our  winter  camp 
on  the  Orange  and  Alexandria  railroad  an  order  was 
issued  from  corps  headquarters  to  discontinue  our 
brigade  commissary  department  and  turn  over  all  property  to 
the  commissary  of  subsistence  of  the  First  Division,  Fifth 
Corps.  Lieutenant  Sinclair  was  ordered  to  rejoin  his  regiment 
as  soon  as  the  transfers  were  completed,  and  I  expected  to  be 
sent  back  to  my  company  to  shoulder  a  musket  among  my  com- 
rades once  more.  I  was  busy  for  a  couple  of  days  in  making 
out  the  transfer  papers.  When  they  were  completed  Lieu- 
tenant Sinclair  sent  me  to  Captain  M.  R.  Came,  the  division 
commissary  officer,  to  obtain  the  necessary  receipts  and 
acknowledgements.  Captain  Came  was  an  elderly  man  and 
very  peculiar.  He  glanced  at  the  papers  and  in  a  drawling 
voice  with  a  strong  "down-East"  accent  asked  me  if  I  had  made 
them  out  and  if  I  understood  them,  to  which  I  replied  in  the 
affirmative.  He  then  slowly  and  carefully  put  on  a  huge  pair 
of  spectacles  and  taking  another  short  look  at  the  papers, 
turned  to  me  and  said.  "Young  man,  your  threes  and  your 
fives,  your  sevens  and  your  nines  I  can  tell  apart,  which  is  of 
great  importance;  but  I  have  seen  better  writing." 

Then  without  further  examination  he  signed  the  receipts  on 
his  camp  table  and  I  saluted  and  departed. 

On  my  arrival  at  camp  I  made  preparations  for  my  return  to 
my  company  on  the  following  day,  and  was  greatly  surprised 
when  that  evening  I  was  ordered  to  report  to  Captain  Came  the 
next  day  as  acting  division  commissary  sergeant.  When  I 
reported  for  duty  the  following  day  he  seemed  to  be  pleased 
to  see  me.  He  asked  me  to  sit  down  in  his  tent  and  talked  with 
me  about  the  duties  I  was  to  perform,  telling  me  to  keep  a 

311 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

daily  journal  for  his  private  use  of  the  marches  we  made,  when 
and  where  we  drew  supplies  or  issued  them,  and  of  all  inci- 
dents worthy  of  note.  Then  he  told  me  to  go  and  make  myself 
comfortable  and  become  acquainted  with  his  "boys,"  as  he 
called  his  assistants,  of  whom,  he  said,  I  was  to  be  the  "boss." 
I  kept  the  journal  for  the  Captain  during  the  time  I  served  with 
him  and  also  a  copy  of  it  for  myself.  When  I  left  him  to  serve 
elsewhere  I  continued  the  journal  as  long  as  I  remained  with 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  and  I  still  possess  it.  I  have  often 
regretted  not  having  kept  a  diary  all  through  my  war  service, 
which  would  have  made  the  task  of  writing  this  book  much 
easier  than  relying  upon  my  memory,  after  the  lapse  of  half 
a  century. 

The  Captain's  "boys"  consisted  of  a  civilian  clerk,  a  relative 
of  his,  to  whom  the  Government  paid  seventy-five  dollars  per 
month  and  the  allowance  of  one  ration.  He  was  a  genial,  care- 
less young  man,  who  hated  work  and  passed  his  on  to  an 
assistant,  a  soldier  of  a  Pennsylvania  regiment,  who  was  a 
bright,  smart  fellow,  detailed  as  a  clerk,  and  very  efficient  when 
he  could  not  get  any  whiskey.  Between  the  two  they  kept 
the  "old  man,"  as  he  was  called,  in  trouble  on  account  of  delays 
in  rendering  reports  and  accounts  to  headquarters,  and  in  hav- 
ing them  returned  for  correction,  with  which  the  Captain  him- 
self was  not  very  familiar. 

Fortunately  my  duties  did  not  include  the  keeping  of 
accounts ;  I  was  to  attend  to  the  drawing  of  supplies  from  the 
depots  and  the  issuing  of  them  at  the  front  and  I  was  also  to 
have  a  general  supervision  of  the  supply  train,  under  the  orders 
of  Captain  Came.  There  were  also  four  or  five  soldiers  de- 
tailed to  do  the  heavy  work,  and  a  cook.  All  of  these  men 
were  volunteers;  I  was  the  only  regular.  The  "boys"  showed 
very  little  respect  for  the  "old  man,"  who  familiarly  addressed 
them  by  their  Christian  names.  They  seldom  saluted  him  and 
never  stood  at  attention  when  he  gave  them  his  orders,  unless 
some  strange  officer  was  present.  The  cook  was  a  good  one. 
He  belonged  to  a  Massachusetts  regiment  and  was  an  artist  on 
baked  beans.  He  would  dig  a  hole  in  the  ground  and  keep  up 

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TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

a  fire  in  it  all  day,  and  at  night  put  in  an  army  camp-kettle 
filled  with  salt  pork  and  beans,  cover  it  over  with  earth,  and 
next  morning  dig  it  up  with  every  bean  just  done  to  a  turn 
and  none  of  them  burnt. 

Captain  Came  was  a  native  of  the  State  of  Maine.  He  had 
joined  the  volunteer  army  as  a  commissary  of  subsistence  and 
had  not  served  with  any  regiment.  He  was  a  man  over  fifty, 
of  medium  stature  and  heavy  build.  He  wore  a  grizzled,  ill- 
kept  beard  and  had  long  gray  hair,  which  together  with  his 
carelessness  in  dress,  gave  him  the  appearance  of  a  hard-work- 
ing old  farmer.  When  in  camp  he  wore  a  soldier's  blouse 
without  any  shoulder  straps  to  indicate  his  rank  which,  along 
with  an  old  felt  hat,  caused  him  to  be  mistaken  at  times  for 
one  of  the  teamsters  and  to  be  addressed  as  such  by  soldiers 
who  did  not  know  him. 

He  was  an  eccentric  man,  stubborn,  but  still  kind  and  good- 
hearted,  especially  to  negroes  in  distress,  for  whom  he  seemed 
to  have  a  special  tenderness.  He  always  spoke  of  them  as 
"colored  boys,"  and  would  not  tolerate  having  them  called 
"niggers."  On  the  march  we  were  sometimes  pestered  by 
"contrabands" — negro  men,  women  and  children — slaves — who 
had  run  away  and  followed  the  supply  trains.  These  he  would 
care  for  and  feed  for  days,  instead  of  turning  them  over  to  the 
provost-marshal.  One  day  I  saw  the  Captain  almost  shed 
tears  while  listening  to  a  tale  told  by  a  sleek,  fat  wench,  who 
seemed  to  be  the  spokesman  for  a  large  party  to  whom  he  gave 
permission  to  ride  in  the  heavily  loaded  wagons,  and  from 
which  they  were  presently  ejected,  to  the  Captain's  great 
regret,  by  Captain  Thomas,  the  division  quartermaster. 

He  had  a  negro  servant,  a  lazy,  worthless,  lying  rascal,  who 
imposed  on  his  kind  master  shamefully.  Often  when  called, 
though  close  by,  he  paid  no  attention;  then  the  Captain  left 
his  tent  to  go  in  search  of  him,  calling  out  "Aleck!  Aleck! 
Alexander  Tyler,  I  want  knowledge!"  which  was  one  of  the 
peculiar  expressions  he  used  when  he  wanted  information 
about  anything.  If  he  found  "Aleck,"  and  sometimes  gave  him 
a  mild  reproof,  the  rascal  always  had  a  lying  excuse  and  only 

313 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

grinned  at  the  old  man.  We  wondered  sometimes  whether  the 
Captain  bossed  the  negro  or  the  servant  bossed  the  Captain,  for 
he  slept  in  his  tent  and  helped  to  drink  his  whiskey. 

The  Captain  was  rather  fond  of  a  little  whiskey  himself  and 
always  kept  it  in  his  tent  and  carried  a  flask  in  the  holster  of 
his  saddle  when  on  the  march.  He  was  very  free  with  it  when 
officers  visited  him  and  on  those  convivial  occasions  he  some- 
times had  me  called  to  his  tent  on  some  pretext  of  wanting 
"knowledge,"  and  when  he  dismissed  me  I  could  overhear  him 
say,  "This  is  my  regular."  He  seemed  to  be  pleased  to  have  a 
regular  sergeant  as  one  of  his  assistants.  The  Captain  was  an 
early  riser  and  on  fine  warm  mornings  stepped  out  of  his  tent 
dressed  only  in  his  undershirt  and  slippers.  In  one  hand  he 
carried  a  tin  cup  containing  his  "toddy" — whiskey,  some  sugar 
and  a  little  water — which  Aleck  prepared  for  him  every  morn- 
ing ;  in  the  other  hand  he  held  a  stick  with  which  he  stirred  the 
toddy,  while  gravely  walking  about  the  camp  in  his  bare 
shanks  and  talking  to  us  until  Aleck  had  his  breakfast  ready. 
I  never  saw  the  Captain  unfit  for  duty ;  he  was  always  attentive 
to  that.  The  principal  effect  that  drink  had  on  him  was  that 
it  made  him  cranky  and  ill-tempered  at  times.  The  laxity  of 
discipline  in  Captain  Game's  department  was  to  me  astonishing 
with  the  training  I  had  had,  and  I  so  expressed  myself  to  my 
comrades,  who  cared  little  about  it  and  were  always  somewhat 
jealous  of  me. 

The  supply  train,  heavily  loaded  with  ten  days'  rations,  in 
addition  to  the  five  days'  rations  issued  to  the  troops  just 
before  starting  on  their  march,  crossed  the  Rapidan  at  Culpeper 
Mine  Ford  on  a  pontoon  bridge  on  the  afternoon  of  May  fourth 
and  proceeded  a  few  miles  on  the  other  side,  where  we 
encamped  for  the  night.  The  train  was  guarded  by  a  greater 
number  of  cavalry  and  infantry  than  I  had  ever  seen  employed 
for  that  purpose. 

The  next  morning  we  marched  in  the  direction  of  the  Wilder- 
ness until  well  along  in  the  forenoon,  when  we  halted  and 
remained  in  that  spot  for  two  days;  then  we  made  a  night 
march  in  the  direction  of  Spottsylvania  Court  House.  From 

314 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

our  position  we  plainly  heard  the  firing  which  opened  the  battle 
of  the  Wilderness  of  May  fifth  and  sixth,  which  was  the  begin- 
ning of  a  series  of  battles,  marching,  and  almost  continuous 
fighting  which  lasted  for  forty-two  days,  until  we  had  arrived 
at  the  James  river.  General  Grant,  regardless  of  tremendous 
losses,  had  sent  a  despatch  to  Washington  in  which  he  used  the 
noted  phrase,  "I  propose  to  fight  it  out  on  this  line  if  it  takes 
all  summer."  He  continued  his  movements  to  the  left  to  out- 
flank Lee,  who  met  him  on  ground  of  his  own  choosing  and 
fought  a  defensive  battle. 

Of  the  great  battles  of  the  Wilderness,  Spottsylvania,  North 
Anna,  Cold  Harbor  and  the  historical  minor  engagements  I 
saw  but  little,  for  my  issues  of  rations  at  the  front  were  some- 
times made  at  night  or  during  a  lull  in  a  battle,  if  in  day- 
time. I  was  always  hurried  away  quickly,  for  the  white  covers 
of  the  wagons,  if  noticed,  drew  the  fire  of  the  enemy's  artillery 
and  on  a  couple  of  occasions  caused  the  loss  of  some  of  the 
wagons  and  the  wounding  of  some  teamsters.  Only  at  Spottsyl- 
vania and  at  Cold  Harbor,  while  waiting  for  darkness  before 
returning,  was  I  enabled  to  see  my  regiment  in  the  breast- 
works and  something  of  the  battle-field  and  to  hear  my  com- 
rades' stories  of  the  fight.  After  the  battle  of  the  Wilderness 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  reinforced  by  General  Burn- 
side's  Ninth  Army  Corps,  numbering  about  twenty-two  thou- 
sand men,  mostly  newly  raised  troops,  of  whom  but  a  third 
had  ever  been  in  the  field. 

While  the  troops  were  at  Spottsylvania  the  supply  train  was 
parked  on  Stafford  Heights,  overlooking  the  town  of  Fred- 
ericksburg,  near  a  large  spring  of  fine  water  which  supplied  the 
town ;  but  there  was  no  fire-wood  to  be  had  except  by  tearing 
down  old  and  unoccupied  houses.  From  this  place,  about  mid- 
way between  the  front  and  Belle  Plain  on  the  Potomac,  the 
new  supply  depot  where  we  drew  rations,  we  supplied  the 
troops  until  they  advanced  to  Cold  Harbor.  Captain  Came  was 
very  energetic  in  trying  to  keep  up  his  supplies.  He  nearly 
always  accompanied  the  train  to  the  depot,  of  which  fact  I  was 
very  glad,  as  he  could  obtain  better  attention  from  the  officers 

315 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

in  charge  than  I.  The  depots  were  busy  places.  The  rule  of 
"first  come,  first  served"  was  not  always  observed ;  favoritism 
was  shown,  and  sometimes  when  alone  I  was  unjustly 
detained  for  many  hours,  or  an  entire  day,  before  I  succeeded 
in  getting  my  wagons  loaded.  When  rations  were  to  be  issued 
at  the  front  the  Captain  remained  in  camp  with  the  main  part 
of  the  train,  which  sometimes  moved  before  I  returned  and  I 
had  to  follow  it  up — with  great  trouble  at  times. 

On  our  first  trip  to  the  depot  at  Belle  Plain  the  Captain  and 
I  rode  ahead  so  as  to  arrive  early  and  get  our  requisition  on 
file.  The  Captain  rode  a  large  horse  named  "Ned,"  to  whom 
he  gave  commands  in  a  voice  loud  enough  for  a  squadron  of 
cavalry:  "Halt!  Forward!  Trot!"  etc.,  which  caused  much 
laughter  as  we  passed  through  the  streets  of  Fredericksburg, 
among  the  soldiers  and  citizens,  who  vainly  looked  for  a 
squadron  to  follow  him. 

Belle  Plain  was  crowded  with  shipping,  arriving  troops  and 
wounded  soldiers,  awaiting  transportation,  as  well  as  prisoners. 
A  long  dock,  only  wide  enough  for  a  single  line  of  wagons,  led 
out  to  a  small  wharf,  where  there  was  room  for  but  two  boats 
at  a  time  and  little  room  to  unload ;  beef  cattle  were  made  to 
jump  overboard  and  swim  ashore.  It  was  after  midnight  when 
our  last  wagon  was  loaded  and  we  drove  off  a  short  distance 
and  rested  until  daylight.  On  this  occasion  we  lost  two  lead- 
mules,  who  fell  off  the  narrow  dock  in  the  darkness  and  were 
drowned. 

Reinforcements  for  the  army  were  being  forwarded  rapidly. 
On  the  way  to  Belle  Plain  we  passed  the  First  Massachusetts, 
First  Vermont,  Second  and  Eighth  New  York,  all  heavy 
artillery,  serving  as  infantry,  and  the  Thirty-sixth  Wisconsin 
Infantry,  full  regiments  on  their  way  to  the  front. 

Late  on  the  afternoon  of  May  nineteenth  the  Rebel  General 
Ewell  passed  around  the  right  wing  of  our  army  and  made  a 
dash  for  the  supply  trains.  He  captured  twenty-seven  wagons 
on  the  Fredericksburg  road,  but  they  were  all  re-taken.  Gen- 
eral Ewell  was  repulsed  and  his  entire  command  came  near 
being  cut  off  from  Lee's  army,  when  darkness  afforded  him  a 
chance  to  escape. 

316 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Our  next  supplies  were  drawn  from  Port  Royal  on  the  Rap- 
pahannock  river.  On  May  twenty-second  the  train  was  at 
Bowling  Green,  a  fine  village,  almost  deserted  except  for 
slaves,  who  were  mostly  women.  We  were  now  out  of  the 
Wilderness  in  a  fine  part  of  the  country  containing  large 
plantations,  which  had  not  been  visited  by  the  ravages  of  war. 
From  Bowling  Green  we  went  by  way  of  Mil  ford  Station  to 
Chesterfield,  crossing  the  Mattapony  river  on  the  way.  This 
river  takes  its  name  and  is  formed  by  four  small  rivers,  named 
the  Ma,  Ta,  Po  and  the  Ny. 

From  Chesterfield  I  was  sent  with  a  part  of  the  train  to 
supply  rations  to  the  division  at  Mount  Carmel  Church,  which 
the  Fifth  Army  Corps  was  to  pass  during  the  night  of  the 
twenty-sixth.  It  had  rained  most  of  the  day;  the  roads  were 
bad,  but  I  reached  the  place  and  waited  for  hours  before  the 
division  arrived  near  midnight  and  halted  until  rations  were 
issued,  when  they  resumed  their  night  march.  The  mules  were 
fed  but  not  unhitched,  for  at  daylight  I  started  on  the  return 
march.  When  I  arrived  at  Chesterfield,  where  I  h^d  left  the 
supply  trains,  I  found  that  they  had  been  ordered  away,  and  I 
had  to  make  a  march  of  thirty  miles  that  day  over  bad  roads 
to  catch  up  with  them  that  evening  near  New  Town. 

I  was  kept  exceedingly  busy  during  this  campaign ;  every 
three  or  four  days  the  troops  had  to  be  supplied  and  six  days' 
rations  had  to  be  kept  in  the  wagons.  This  kept  me  on  the  go 
all  the  time,  to  the  front  or  to  the  depots,  which  were  often  far 
apart.  Much  of  the  marching  was  done  in  the  night-time,  and 
often  the  only  sleep  I  got  was  dozing  in  the  saddle  or  snatching 
a  few  hours  in  an  empty  wagon  when  almost  exhausted  from 
fatigue. 

We  had  much  rain  during  the  month  of  May  and  the  early 
part  of  June.  The  roads — some  of  them  bad  enough  in  dry 
weather — were  in  a  horrible  state.  At  Spottsylvania  I  lost  two 
loads  of  hard  bread — the  wagons  upset  in  a  deep  puddle  and 
one  of  them  we  were  unable  to  extricate  and  had  to  abandon. 
The  horses  and  mules,  ill-fed,  hard-worked  night  and  day,  and 

317 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

often  suffering  for  water,  sometimes  succumbed.  There  were 
times  when  we  did  not  dare  to  lose  time  to  let  them  drink  while 
fording  a  stream,  no  matter  how  they  suffered.  Often  they 
were  hitched  up  for  forty-eight  hours  at  a  time  and  my  horse 
did  not  have  his  saddle  removed. 

When  the  army  reached  Cold  Harbor,  the  base  of  supplies 
was  changed  to  the  White  House  Landing  on  the  Pamunkey 
river,  a  locality  familiar  to  us  in  McClellan's  time.  On  our 
march  we  passed  through  Dunkirk,  Aylets,  Newcastle  and  Old 
Church,  a  fertile  region  with  many  plantations.  In  passing 
through  this  section  many  contrabands  abandoned  the  planta- 
tions and  joined  our  train.  A  few  times  we  took  down  fences 
and  parked  the  train  in  a  great  clover-field,  which  was  a  rare 
treat  for  our  hungry  animals. 

On  our  route  we  encountered  General  W.  F.  Smith's  four 
divisions  of  sixteen  thousand  men,  of  the  Eighteenth  Army 
Corps,  from  General  Butler's  Army  of  the  James,  whence  they 
had  come  to  the  White  House  in  transports  and  were  marching 
to  reinforce  Grant's  army  at  Cold  Harbor.  We  also  met  strong 
regiments  of  heavy  artillery,  withdrawn  from  the  defenses  of 
Washington,  marching  to  the  front.  The  authorities  at  Wash- 
ington had  given  General  Grant  a  free  hand,  which  no  former 
commander  had  had,  to  recruit  his  great  losses  in  this  campaign. 

While  the  opposing  armies  faced  each  other  at  Cold  Harbor 
for  a  period  of  twelve  days,  I  made  frequent  trips  with  sup- 
plies from  the  White  House  depot  to  the  front,  and  on  my 
return  journeys,  which  generally  took  place  at  night,  we  drove 
to  the  field  hospitals  and  filled  the  empty  wagons  with  the  less 
seriously  wounded  and  took  them  to  the  White  House  depot. 
This  was  also  done  at  the  Wilderness  and  at  Spottsylvania,  the 
supply  of  ambulances  being  inadequate  to  remove  the  great 
numbers  of  wounded  men.  The  roads  being  bad  during  rainy 
weather,  and  the  army  wagons  having  no  springs  to  lessen  the 
hard  jolts,  the  poor  fellows  suffered  intense  pain  and  I  often 
heard  them  cry  out  in  agony  as  I  rode  past  the  wagons.  It  was 
pitiful  to  hear  them.  When  I  was  in  charge  of  the  train  I 
made  frequent  halts  to  rest  them,  but  this  was  all  that  could 

318 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

be  done.  Sometimes  one  or  two  of  the  unfortunates  died 
during  the  night,  the  body  remaining  in  the  wagon  among  the 
living  until  we  reached  our  destination.  Upon  arriving  at 
the  White  House,  the  wounded  were  delivered  at  the  general 
hospital,  where  thousands  of  wounded  soldiers  were  cared  for 
and  rested  for  a  few  days  in  large  hospital  tents,  before  being 
shipped  in  especially  adapted  transport  vessels  to  Northern 
hospitals  or  convalescent  camps. 

The  great  depot  at  the  White  House  was  a  busy  place.  The 
narrow  river  was  congested  with  vessels  of  all  kinds,  including 
some  gun-boats.  Great  quantities  of  stores  for  the  army  were 
discharged  and  newly  arrived  troops  came  ashore.  Departing 
vessels  carried  away  wounded  soldiers  and  Rebel  prisoners, 
many  of  whom  seemed  pleased  at  the  prospect  of  getting 
enough  to  eat;  for  they  had  been  ill-supplied  all  through  this 
campaign,  as  they  informed  us. 

On  June  ninth  we  learned  that  a  change  of  base  to  the  James 
river  was  to  take  place.  On  the  following  day  we  loaded  the 
wagons  with  all  the  supplies  they  would  carry  and  by  way  of 
Tunstall's  Station  proceeded  to  the  vicinity  of  Cold  Harbor, 
over  ground  familiar  to  us.  Some  of  the  conflict  at  Cold 
Harbor  took  place  on  the  battlefield  of  Gaines's  Mill,  only  the 
position  of  the  two  armies  was  now  reversed.  After  supplying 
the  division  the  train  left  camp  at  three  P.  M.  June  twelfth,  an 
exceedingly  hot  day,  for  the  James  river. 

After  dark  on  the  same  day  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was 
withdrawn  from  the  trenches  at  Cold  Harbor,  where  they  had 
such  a  deplorable  experience  that  General  Grant  himself  in  his 
Memoirs  says :  "I  have  always  regretted  that  the  last  assault 
at  Cold  Harbor  was  ever  made;  no  advantage  whatever  was 
gained  to  compensate  for  the  heavy  loss  we  sustained." 

On  the  fifteenth  of  June  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  crossed 
the  James  on  a  pontoon  bridge  at  Wilcox's  Landing,  just  six 
weeks  after  crossing  the  Rapidan.  It  had  failed  to  capture 
Richmond  or  to  destroy  Lee's  army,  and  the  campaign  ended  at 
the  James,  as  in  1862,  but  with  an  immensely  greater  sacrifice. 
Conservative  historians  compute  our  losses  at  7,289  killed, 

319 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

37,406  wounded  and  9,856  missing;  a  total  of  54,551.  Others 
claim  that  these  figures  do  not  include  the  losses  in  Burnside's 
Ninth  Army  Corps  and  make  the  grand  total  upwards  of  sixty 
thousand, — a  loss  on  our  side  nearly  as  great  as  General  Lee's 
entire  army  at  the  opening  of  the  campaign.  None  of  the 
authorities  place  the  Confederate  losses  over  twenty  thousand, 
or  about  one  to  three.  This  sanguine  campaign,  its  awful 
sacrifices  without  any  advantages,  caused  mutter  ings  of  dis- 
content and  had  a  gloomy  and  depressing  effect,  not  only  in  the 
army  but  throughout  the  North.  The  army  had  lost  thousands 
of  its  most  capable  officers  and  veteran  soldiers,  who  could  not 
be  replaced,  and  it  no  longer  seemed  to  be  the  same  army. 

When  Generals  Grant  and  Meade,  whom  I  encountered  a 
few  times,  appeared  among  the  troops  there  was  but  feeble 
applause,  and  the  hearty  cheers  received  by  some  of  our  former 
commanders  were  no  longer  heard.  At  this  period  of  the  war 
the  only  bright  spot  was  the  masterly  strategy  and  successful 
campaign  of  General  Sherman  against  the  Confederate  General 
Joseph  E.  Johnson  in  the  West  from  Chattanooga  to  Atlanta. 
In  the  Histories  of  the  Wilderness, — Cold  Harbor  campaign, 
written  after  the  conclusion  of  the  Civil  War  by  officers  still  in 
the  service  or  on  the  retired  list — histories  most  carefully  writ- 
ten— there  is  an  absence  of  criticism  of  the  military  strategy 
in  this  campaign.  When  all  participants  have  passed  away, 
some  future  historian  will  write  an  unbiased  story  of  the  war 
and  its  strategy. 

Anxiety  as  to  the  safe  withdrawal  of  the  supply  trains  was 
felt,  but  they  were  well  protected.  So  skillfully  was  the  with- 
drawal of  the  army  and  its  trains  accomplished  that  General 
Lee  was  unable  to  determine  for  two  days  whether  the  object- 
ive point  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  the  investment  of 
Richmond  or  a  movement  to  the  James  river.  Except  for  some 
cavalry  skirmishes,  the  march  was  unmolested. 

The  train  arrived  at  the  Chickahominy  on  the  morning  of 
the  fourteenth  and  encamped  at  Wilcox's  farm  until  the  follow- 
ing day,  waiting  for  the  pontoon  bridge  and  approaches  to  be 
completed,  for  an  insufficient  number  of  boats  had  been  pro- 

320 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

vided,  causing  twenty-four  hours'  delay.  The  river  is  wide  and 
deep  at  that  point.  We  crossed  on  the  afternoon  of  the  fifteenth. 
I  counted  forty- four  large  wooden  pontoons  and  sixteen 
smaller  canvas  pontoons,  all  of  which  appeared  to  be  spaced 
at  greater  distances  apart  than  usual. 

We  halted  at  some  distance  on  the  opposite  side  and  resumed 
our  march  at  seven  P.  M.,  reaching  the  vicinity  of  the  pontoon 
bridge  over  the  James  at  Wilcox's  Point  before  midnight.  We 
were  halted  there  to  allow  the  Ninth  Army  Corps  to  cross 
before  us.  The  train  commenced  crossing  about  two  o'clock  on 
the  morning  of  the  sixteenth  of  June.  It  was  a  beautiful,  clear, 
moonlight  night  and  I  had  no  difficulty  in  counting  the  one 
hundred  and  one  pontoons  composing  the  bridge  over  the 
James,  more  than  two  thousand  feet  wide  at  this  point.  It  was 
daylight  when  we  parked  in  a  cornfield  on  the  other  side,  and 
men  and  animals  were  glad  to  get  some  rest.  The  teams  were 
not  unhitched,  for  we  were  liable  to  be  ordered  forward  at  any 
moment. 

All  day  long  the  road  was  crowded  with  marching  troops  and 
trains  coming  across  the  bridge,  and  by  midnight  of  the  six- 
teenth the  entire  army  with  all  its  artillery  and  trains  had 
reached  the  right  bank  of  the  James.  After  sun-down  our 
train  was  ordered  to  pull  out  on  the  road,  and  after  proceeding 
a  few  hundred  yards  it  was  halted  and  did  not  go  on  again 
until  eleven  P.  M.  After  that  we  moved  by  fits  and  starts  and 
at  daylight  had  accomplished  only  about  three  miles  on  the 
congested  road. 

After  daylight  on  the  seventeenth  we  made  better  progress ; 
we  passed  through  Prince  George  Court  House  and  halted 
after  noon-time  in  an  oat-field  a  mile  square,  which  was  de- 
stroyed in  a  few  hours.  There  we  fed  the  animals,  after  a 
twenty-four-hour  fast,  and  unhitched  them  for  a  few  hours — 
they  had  not  had  their  harnesses  off  for  two  days.  I  also 
issued  two  days'  rations  to  our  division,  which  was  halted 
close  by.  We  plainly  heard  cannonading  in  the  direction  of 
Petersburg  during  the  afternoon. 

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TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

About  six  P.  M.  we  resumed  our  march  and  for  the  third 
night  in  succession  we  were  on  the  road  until  daylight.  On  the 
morning  of  the  eighteenth  we  encamped  within  about  two  and 
a  half  miles  from  City  Point  on  the  road  to  Petersburg.  All 
the  supply  trains  of  the  army,  commissary,  quartermaster  and 
reserve  ammunition  were  encamped  in  this  vicinity  about  six 
miles  from  the  front  at  Petersburg ;  all  except  what  was  called 
the  "Fighting  Train,"  composed  of  ammunition  wagons,  which 
always  followed  the  troops  and  supplied  ammunition  when 
required,  in  camp  or  during  a  battle.  The  supply  trains  were 
destined  to  remain  in  this  camp  for  many  months,  while  the 
long  and  tedious  operations  of  the  siege  of  Petersburg  went  on. 

But  I  was  not  to  remain  in  camp.  A  short  time  previous 
some  further  changes  and  consolidations  had  been  made  and 
my  regiment  was  again  placed  in  the  Second  Division  of  the 
Fifth  Corps,  and  three  days  after  our  arrival  I  was  ordered  to 
report  at  the  front  as  acting  ordnance  sergeant.  The  regulars 
formed  the  First  Brigade,  along  with  the  Fifth,  One  Hundred 
and  Fortieth  and  One  Hundred  and  Forty-sixth  New  York 
Volunteers,  under  the  command  of  Brigadier-General  Joseph 
Hayes.  When  I  learned  of  this  change  I  knew  that  I  would 
have  to  leave  my  detail  in  the  First  Division  and  expected  to 
be  ordered  to  join  my  company;  being  appointed  ordnance 
sergeant  was  a  complete  surprise  to  me  and  I  never  learned  to 
whom  I  owed  the  appointment.  I  left  Captain  Came  on  the 
morning  of  June  twenty-first  and  I  think  he  was  not  well 
pleased  at  losing  his  only  "regular."  He  told  me  to  come  and 
see  him  when  I  could,  and  to  call  on  him  for  anything  I  needed 
in  the  commissary  line.  For  my  part  I  was  glad  to  leave  the 
kindly  old  man,  for  during  my  stay  of  eight  weeks  I  always 
felt  annoyed  at  the  manner  in  which  my  assistants  performed 
their  duties. 

First  Lieutenant  Richard  H.  Pond,  of  the  Twelfth  United 
States  Infantry,  was  the  acting  ordnance  officer  of  the  Second 
Division,  Fifth  Corps,  to  whom  I  reported  at  the  front.  Lieu- 
tenant Pond  had  been  appointed  from  the  ranks  in  May,  1862, 
and  he  understood  and  performed  his  duties  very  well.  He 

322 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

was  a  pleasant  man,  with  a  taste  for  literature  and  spent 
much  of  his  time  in  writing. 

The  ammunition  train  was  encamped  close  to  General  War- 
ren's headquarters,  in  rear  of  some  of  the  captured  redoubts 
and  breastworks,  and  near  the  Norfolk  and  Petersburg  rail- 
road. With  this  train  was  a  permanent  detail  of  a  sergeant, 
a  corporal  and  eighteen  privates,  whose  duties  were  to  guard 
the  train  and  to  assist  me  in  caring  for,  receiving  and  distrib- 
uting the  infantry  arms  and  ammunition  for  the  Second 
Division.  There  was  also  a  soldier  named  Ballard,  detailed 
as  ordnance  clerk,  a  very  staid,  pious  man,  much  older  than  I, 
who  read  his  Bible  when  not  otherwise  occupied.  Ballard  and 
I  had  a  wall  tent  for  our  use;  the  ammunition  guard  had 
shelter  tents,  and  the  wagon-master  and  teamsters  slept  in  the 
wagons  on  the  ammunition  boxes.  I  was  provided  with  a 
riding  horse  and  accoutrements.  I  did  not  like  the  horse  and 
soon  swapped  him  for  a  better  one  at  the  corral  where  extra 
horses  were  kept. 

My  duties,  while  the  siege  went  on,  were  much  easier  than 
in  the  commissary  department,  and  the  reports  and  accounts, 
which  dealt  only  with  arms,  accoutrements  and  ammunition 
for  infantry,  were  more  simple.  Every  morning  I  sent  a 
wagon  loaded  with  twenty  thousand  rounds  of  cartridges  to 
the  front,  a  short  distance  away,  accompanied  by  a  file  of  the 
guard  and  sometimes  I  went  with  them.  This  wagon  remained 
at  the  front  until  dark,  supplying  ammunition  when  needed; 
and  when  returning  to  camp,  left  a  supply  for  the  night. 

Artillery  firing  was  going  on  at  some  part  of  the  long  line 
all  day,  sometimes  furiously.  Picket  firing  was  almost  constant 
along  the  line  in  the  rifle  pits,  and  at  night  when  the  pickets 
were  being  relieved,  the  firing  occasionally  was  increased  by  the 
men  behind  the  breast-works  on  both  sides,  also  by  the  artillery, 
until  it  sounded  like  a  battle.  This  sometimes  kept  up  for 
more  than  a  half  hour,  when  it  suddenly  ceased  and  only 
pickets'  shot  were  heard.  There  were  some  mortars  along 
our  line,  firing  shells  into  Petersburg.  I  watched  them  at 
night,  when  I  could  distinguish  the  burning  fuses  in  their 

323 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

curved  course  through  the  sky  like  rockets  and  could  hear  the 
shells  burst.  After  a  while  I  became  so  accustomed  to  artillery 
firing  at  night  that  it  no  longer  awakened  me,  even  if  close 
to  our  camp.  The  enemy's  longer  range  guns  sometimes  fired 
a  few  shells  over  our  camp,  invisible  to  them,  and  over  General 
Warren's  headquarters  close  by,  without  doing  any  damage. 

The  troops  manned  the  breast-works  and  constructed  re- 
doubts, bomb-proofs  and  covered  ways  by  brigades  and  were 
relieved  by  other  brigades  every  few  days.  When  relieved, 
they  retired  some  distance  to  the  rear,  near  division  head- 
quarters, a  short  distance  in  advance  of  the  ordnance  train's 
camp.  Lieutenant  Pond  had  his  tent  with  the  division  staff, 
where  I  reported  to  him  every  evening  about  sun-down  for 
orders,  unless  absent  on  other  duty. 

The  weather  had  become  intensely  hot,  and  no  rain  had 
fallen  since  June  fifth.  The  heavy  cannonading  failed  to  bring 
it  on,  as  it  generally  did;  with  the  exception  of  a  few  drops 
from  a  cloud  early  in  July,  there  was  no  rain  until  July 
nineteenth — a  period  of  forty-three  days.  At  first  we  got 
water  from  a  small  stream  a  long  distance  from  camp,  but  it 
soon  dried  up.  We  then  resorted  to  wells,  as  the  troops  had 
to  do  from  the  beginning  of  the  siege.  Five  or  six  feet  below 
the  porous  surface  soil,  there  was  clay  containing  water.  We 
dug  pits  and  put  down  barrels  with  the  heads  knocked  out. 
As  the  drought  was  prolonged,  we  were  obliged  to  deepen 
our  wells,  digging  ten  to  twelve  feet  or  more  in  depth  to  get 
a  sufficient  amount  of  water  for  men  and  animals.  The  dust 
was  many  inches  thick  on  the  roads  where,  ground  into  a  fine 
powder  by  passing  troops  and  trains,  it  hung  in  great  clouds 
so  dense  that  often  a  teamster  was  unable  to  see  his  leading 
mules.  This,  and  the  absence  of  water  along  the  roads,  caused 
much  suffering  to  man  and  beast. 

The  old  Petersburg  and  City  Point  railroad  was  repaired  for 
the  required  distance  and  a  new  road,  called  the  United  States 
Military  railroad,  was  connected  with  it  and  finally  extended 
south  as  far  as  the  Weldon  and  Petersburg  railroad.  Very 
imperfect  grading  and  ballasting  was  done  in  the  hasty  build- 

324 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

ing  of  this  road.  The  soldiers  declared  that  it  made  them 
sea-sick  to  ride  on  its  cars;  nevertheless,  it  proved  to  be  of 
great  service  to  the  investing  army. 

Once  or  twice  a  week  I  had  to  go  to  City  Point,  about  ten 
miles  away,  to  the  ordnance  depot  with  some  wagons  to  re- 
plenish the  supply  of  ammunition  for  our  division.  By  start- 
ing early  I  was  generally  able  to  make  this  trip  in  a  day,  if 
no  great  delay  occurred  at  the  depot,  returning  in  the  evening, 
thickly  covered  with  dust. 

We  presumed  that  General  Grant  would  order  a  bombard- 
ment and  assault  on  the  enemy's  works  at  Petersburg  on  July 
fourth  but  with  the  exception  of  firing  a  national  salute  at  his 
headquarters  at  City  Point,  the  day  passed  without  special 
incident. 

A  few  days  later  it  was  discovered  that  the  Rebel  General 
Jubal  A.  Early  had  slipped  away  and  was  marching  up  the 
Shenandoah  Valley,  well  on  his  way  to  Maryland.  The  Sixth 
Corps  was  hastily  embarked  on  transports  for  Washington  and 
arrived  there  on  the  eleventh  of  July  in  the  nick  of  time  to 
save  the  city.  General  Early  had  arrived  before  the  northern 
defenses  of  the  city  at  an  earlier  hour  on  the  same  day  and, 
finding  the  works  but  feebly  defended,  contemplated  an  as- 
sault on  the  following  day  which  was  frustrated  by  the  timely 
arrival  of  the  Sixth  Corps,  which  forced  him  to  withdraw. 

Shortly  after  the  arrival  of  the  army  at  Petersburg,  City 
Point  assumed  the  appearance  of  a  large  and  busy  town. 
Great  store-houses  and  other  temporary  frame  buildings  were 
erected  and  the  wharf  extended.  General  Grant's  headquarters 
were  there,  the  commissary,  quartermaster,  ordnance  and  medi- 
cal depots ;  the  general  hospital  with  its  many  large  tents 
near  the  banks  of  the  Appomattox  river;  undertaking  and 
embalming  establishments,  conducted  by  enterprising  civilians ; 
and  a  rapidly  increasing  grave-yard  for  the  many  sick  and 
wounded  soldiers,  who  died  in  the  general  hospital.  The 
sanitary  and  the  Christian  commissions,  sustained  by  the  gen- 
erosity of  the  Northern  people,  had  large  establishments.  The 
two  commissions  were  of  incalculable  benefit  in  helping  the 

325 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Government  in  the  care  of  sick  and  wounded  soldiers  and 
saved  many  lives.  Many  sutlers  had  tents  or  booths  near  the 
bank  of  the  James,  which  looked  like  a  market-place.  It  was 
not  until  some  time  later  that  regimental  sutlers  were  permitted 
at  the  front.  The  river  was  so  full  of  vessels  that  it  resembled 
a  great  shipping  port. 

One  day,  after  loading  my  wagons,  I  went  to  one  of  the 
sutler's  booths  to  buy  some  crackers  and  cheese  for  a  lunch 
before  my  ride  back  to  camp.  As  I  stood  among  a  crowd 
of  soldiers,  waiting  to  be  served,  I  heard  one  of  them  de- 
manding something  in  a  voice  that  sounded  familiar  to  me.  I 
soon  discovered  that  he  was  a  former  drummer  of  my  regi- 
ment, in  fact  one  of  the  two  boys  who  had  accompanied  me 
from  Governor's  Island  to  Carlisle.  He  was  now  a  bugler  in 
Captain  Haxamer's  New  Jersey  Battery.  I  was  glad  to  see 
him  again.  We  conversed  a  while  and  then  rode  together  to- 
wards the  front,  his  battery  being  stationed  about  a  mile  to 
the  right  of  the  main  road  to  Petersburg.  He  told  me  he  had 
a  fine  flute  which  he  had  found  in  a  knapsack  on  the  field  of 
Cold  Harbor,  which  he  desired  to  present  to  me,  having  no 
use  for  it  himself.  At  the  parting  of  our  ways  he  requested 
me  to  wait,  while  he  rode  to  his  camp  to  get  it.  He  soon 
returned  and  handed  me  a  package  which  I  found,  when 
opened,  contained  the  first  two  joints  of  a  flute  and  a  music 
book.  The  third  joint,  usually  made  in  two  sections,  was 
missing.  He  thought  he  must  have  dropped  it  out  of  the 
carelessly  wrapped  package,  when  he  mounted  his  horse  in 
camp  to  return  to  me.  He  promised  to  make  diligent  search 
for  it,  and  did  find  the  upper  section  of  the  third  joint,  where 
he  thought  he  had  lost  it,  and  brought  it  to  me.  More  than 
a  month  later,  I  met  him  again.  He  had  recovered  the  last 
section  of  the  third  joint  and  the  flute  was  finally  complete. 
It  appeared  that  a  soldier  of  his  battery  had  found  this  part  in 
camp  and  kept  it  for  weeks  in  his  haversack  as  a  curiosity,  until 
one  day  my  friend  recovered  it.  I  have  treasured  this  flute 
which  came  to  me  so  curiously  in  installments ;  the  key  on  the 
last  joint  shows  plainly  the  imprint  of  a  horse's  hoof. 

326 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Captain  Game's  camp  was  close  to  the  City  Point  road.  I 
called  on  him  a  few  times,  when  he  invited  me  to  his  tent  and 
asked  me  to  take  a  "little  mite,"  as  he  expressed  it.  He  seemed 
pleased  to  see  me,  or  was  pleased  at  the  excuse  I  afforded  for 
an  extra  drink.  We  chatted,  and  he  urged  me  to  stay  and  have 
dinner  with  his  "boys."  On  one  of  my  trips,  I  fortunately 
missed  by  a  few  hours  the  explosion  of  a  boat  with  a  cargo  of 
ordnance  stores,  at  the  wharf  where  I  loaded  my  wagons.  It 
killed  and  wounded  about  a  hundred  of  the  negro  stevedores 
and  other  persons  near-by,  demolished  some  ordnance  wagons, 
and  did  great  damage  to  the  wharf  and  adjoining  vessels.  The 
cause  of  the  explosion  remained  unknown,  but  it  was  sur- 
mised that  Rebel  spies  were  to  blame  for  it. 

Some  change  in  the  position  of  our  division  caused  the  re- 
moval of  our  camp  nearer  to  the  Jerusalem  Plank  road.  This 
caused  the  digging  of  more  and  deeper  wells  to  obtain  a  suffi- 
cient supply  of  water,  during  the  great  heat  and  drought. 
General  Burnside's  Ninth  Army  Corps  was  on  the  right  of 
the  Fifth  and  there  I  saw  the  first  colored  troops  join  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac,  observing  the  arrival  of  a  new  regiment 
of  negroes  with  their  white  officers  on  the  road  from  City 
Point.  Many  of  them  had  taken  off  their  shoes  and  carried 
them  slung  on  their  bayonets  while  trudging  bare- footed  along 
the  hot  dusty  road.  In  the  evening  I  went  to  their  camp  and 
heard  the  roll-call  of  one  of  the  companies.  There  were  so 
many  Jacksons  and  Johnstons,  that  the  first  sergeant  num- 
bered them  as  high  as  "Johnston  number  five."  They  ap- 
peared to  be  very  proud  of  being  soldiers  and  serving  with 
white  troops. 

There  were  rumors,  late  in  July,  that  a  mine  was  being  dug 
at  a  point  in  front  of  the  Ninth  Army  Corps,  where  the  field 
fortifications  of  both  armies  approached  the  closest.  On  the 
night  of  July  twenty-ninth,  I  was  awakened  by  an  orderly 
who  brought  me  an  order  from  Lieutenant  Pond  to  have  the 
ordnance  train  ready  to  move  at  three  o'clock  next  morning. 
An  hour  later  the  order  was  changed  to  have  forty  thousand 
rounds  of  ammunition  at  the  front  at  daylight.  I  supposed 

327 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

that  the  mine  was  to  be  blown  up  under  the  enemy's  works  and 
that  a  general  bombardment  would  take  place. 

It  was  just  daylight,  when  I  arrived  at  the  front  with  one 
wagon  containing  the  ammunition.  I  waited,  expecting  to  hear 
an  explosion  at  any  moment.  It  was  a  beautiful  morning  and 
all  was  quiet.  I  must  have  waited  for  an  hour,  when  sud- 
denly I  felt  the  earth  tremble  as  the  mine  was  fired,  and  I 
heard  a  dull  heavy  thud  in  front  of  the  Ninth  Corps  close  by. 
The  report  had  not  yet  died  away  when  our  batteries,  mortars 
and  great  guns  opened  a  tremendous  fire  on  the  Rebel  works 
which  shook  the  earth. 

An  intervening  strip  of  woods  prevented  me  from  seeing 
anything  except  the  great  cloud  of  smoke  which  arose  over 
the  batteries.  The  teamster  and  two  guards  were  busy  trying 
to  keep  the  mules  from  running  away,  while  I  endeavored  to 
quiet  my  horse,  which  was  trying  to  break  the  halter  by 
which  I  had  tied  him  to  a  tree.  I  think  it  was  ten  minutes  or 
more  before  there  was  any  reply  from  the  Rebel  batteries  and 
longer  than  that  before  their  fire  became  general.  Occasional 
shells  now  began  to  fly  over  us  and  one  of  them — a  twenty- 
pounder — landed  within  a  few  yards  of  me,  kicked  around 
and  scattered  dirt  over  me,  as  I  threw  myself  prone  to  the 
ground;  but  fortunately  it  failed  to  explode.  The  artillery 
fire  was  kept  up  for  more  than  an  hour  when  it  slackened, 
but  was  vigorously  resumed  for  a  time  about  nine  o'clock 
By  noon  it  had  ceased  and  I  was  ordered  to  return  to  camp. 

We  learned  later  that  the  springing  of  the  mine  was  a  suc- 
cess, although  it  took  place  an  hour  later  than  intended,  owing 
to  a  damp  fuse  which  failed  about  half  way  into  the  mine  and 
had  to  be  replaced.  The  explosion  blew  a  small  Rebel  fort, 
with  all  its  inmates  and  guns,  about  two  hundred  feet  up  into 
the  air  and  made  a  crater  in  the  ground  about  one  hundred  and 
fifty,  by  sixty  feet  and  twenty-five  feet  deep,  which  caused 
consternation  and  surprise  among  the  enemy. 

It  has  been  conceded  that  General  M cade's  plan  for  a  gen- 
eral assault  on  Petersburg  was  skillful  and  should  have  been 
a  success,  had  his  orders  been  fully  obeyed.  General  Han- 

328 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

cock's  Second  Army  Corps  had  been  sent  across  the  James 
on  the  twenty-seventh  to  make  a  diversion,  which  resulted  in 
General  Lee's  weakening  his  defenses  by  several  divisions ; 
while  the  Second  Corps  was  to  return  on  the  night  of  the 
twenty-ninth  to  take  part  in  the  general  assault  on  Petersburg, 
which  failed  to  take  place.  Owing  to  deplorable  delay  and 
mismanagement  of  the  division  of  the  Ninth  Corps,  which 
advanced  after  the  explosion  of  the  mine  and  became  huddled 
in  the  crater,  the  attack  was  doomed  to  lamentable  failure, 
which  caused  the  loss  of  nearly  four  thousand  men.  Some 
historians  have  termed  this  event  "the  mine  fiasco."  A  week 
later  General  Meade  ordered  a  court  of  inquiry  to  investigate 
the  cause  of  the  failure.  This  court,  after  the  conclusion  of 
its  sessions,  promulgated  its  opinion  as  follows : 

That  General  Burnside  had  failed  to  prepare  his  parapets 
and  abatis  for  the  passage  of  the  assaulting  columns  and  had 
not  given  them  proper  formation ;  that  he  had  neglected  Gen- 
eral M cade's  order  for  the  prompt  advance  to  the  crest  and 
had  not  provided  engineers,  working  materials  and  tools,  etc., 
etc.  As  General  Burnside  remained  at  his  headquarters,  more 
than  a  mile  away,  during  the  assault,  he  had  no  personal 
knowledge  of  what  was  taking  place.  Brigadier-Generals  J. 
H.  Ledlie,  commanding  the  white,  and  Edward  Ferrero,  com- 
manding the  colored  troops  of  the  assaulting  columns,  were 
found  not  to  have  pushed  their  divisions  forward  promptly, 
according  to  orders;  nor  did  they  accompany  them,  but  re- 
mained in  the  rear  in  bomb-proofs  most  of  the  time  and  did 
not  know  the  position  of  their  troops.  Two  other  brigade 
commanders  were  less  unfavorably  commented  up.  Six  months 
later  the  congressional  committee  on  the  conduct  of  the  war 
made  a  more  searching  and  exhaustive  inquiry  into  the  "mine 
fiasco." 

Unremitting  picket  firing  and  occasional  cannonading  went 
on  during  the  sweltering  first  half  of  the  month  of  August. 
On  the  night  of  the  fifteenth,  the  Fifth  Corps  was  relieved 
from  duty  in  the  trenches  by  the  extension  of  the  Ninth  Corps 
to  the  left.  General  Grant  had  decided  to  destroy  the  Weldon 

329 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

railroad,  an  important  means  of  supply  for  Lee's  army,  some 
miles  to  our  west,  and,  if  possible,  to  make  a  lodgement  there 
and  extend  our  investing  lines  to  that  point.  The  Fifth  Army 
Corps  was  selected  for  this  movement  and  was  to  march  on 
the  morning  of  the  Seventeenth,  but  a  torrential  rain-storm 
on  the  night  of  the  sixteenth  had  put  the  roads  into  such  a 
condition  that  it  was  impossible  to  move  artillery  the  next 
morning. 

Just  before  midnight  on  the  seventeenth  some  Rebel  bat- 
teries opened  fire  on  the  Union  lines  and  soon  all  the  guns 
and  mortars  on  both  sides  seemed  to  be  engaged.  It  was  the 
most  furious  midnight  cannonading  since  the  beginning  of  the 
siege.  All  the  mortars  were  firing  shells,  which  made  the  sky 
look  as  though  there  were  a  display  of  fireworks.  It  lasted 
for  an  hour  and  a  half,  when  the  firing  slackened  and  then 
suddenly  ceased  on  both  sides,  as  if  by  an  agreement. 

A  few  hours  later,  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  on  the 
eighteenth,  General  Warren  started  the  Fifth  Corps  on  the 
march  to  the  Weldon  railroad.  At  daylight  we  broke  camp, 
loaded  the  wagons  and  were  soon  ready  to  follow  the  troops, 
but  remained  stationary  awaiting  orders.  About  noon  we  heard 
firing  from  the  direction  which  General  Warren  had  taken, 
and  by  two  o'clock  the  firing  had  increased  enough  to  indicate 
a  considerable  engagement.  The  day  was  very  hot,  although 
a  heavy  rain  was  falling.  At  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
Lieutenant  Pond  ordered  me  to  start  immediately  with  nine 
wagons,  loaded  with  ammunition,  for  the  Weldon  railroad 
and  report  to  Colonel  Fred  T.  Locke,  the  Adjutant-General  of 
the  Corps.  I  started  promptly,  taking  along  half  of  the  guard, 
mine  being  the  first  ordnance  train  on  the  road  and  keeping 
in  the  lead  all  the  way.  The  roads  were  in  a  bad  condition 
from  recent  heavy  rains.  One  of  the  teamsters  broke  a  wagon 
tongue  but  there  was  no  time  to  improvise  a  substitute  and,  as 
the  stalled  wagon  could  be  passed,  I  left  it  sticking  in  the  deep 
mud  and  hastened  on. 

I  arrived  at  the  Weldon  railroad  at  nine  P.  M.,  where  I 
halted  the  train  and  reported  to  the  adjutant-general  at  the 

330 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

Globe  Tavern  on  the  Halifax  road,  which  runs  parallel  to  the 
railroad.  A  lieutenant  was  ordered  to  guide  me.  He  directed 
me  to  follow  him  with  three  of  the  wagons  and  led  me  up 
the  road,  nearly  a  mile,  to  a  point  between  our  line  of  battle 
and  our  pickets.  There  I  supplied  the  picket  reserve  with 
ammunition.  Sharp  picket  firing  from  the  Rebel  side  began, 
as  they  heard  the  noise  of  my  wagons,  but  it  was  raining 
and  the  night  was  pitch-dark  and  we  escaped  without  damage. 
I  next  supplied  the  different  regiments  of  the  division  and  at 
daylight  was  ordered  to  retire  and  park  the  wagons  half  a  mile 
to  the  rear  and  to  be  in  readiness  to  move  at  any  minute.  I 
sent  my  empty  wagons  back  to  the  old  camp;  and  during  the 
afternoon  the  remainder  of  the  ammunition  train  joined  me, 
also  the  wagon  I  had  abandoned  in  the  mud.  Lieutenant 
Pond  had  remained  behind,  sick.  I  did  not  see  him  again 
for  nearly  a  week. 

Attempts  to  break  our  line  were  made  soon  after  daylight 
on  the  nineteenth  and  at  intervals  during  the  day.  About  five 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  enemy  turned  our  right  flank  and 
enveloped  a  part  of  our  division,  capturing  Brigadier-General 
Joseph  Hayes  and  some  hundreds  of  prisoners.  I  saw  much 
of  this  engagement,  but  when  the  enemy  got  in  rear  of  our 
division,  I  was  ordered  to  fall  back  hurriedly  to  save  the  train 
from  capture.  Reinforcements  arrived  at  this  part  of  the  line 
and  at  dark  the  enemy  had  been  repulsed. 

It  had  rained  nearly  all  day,  the  roads  were  now  impassable 
for  wagons,  but  ammunition  had  to  be  supplied.  I  was  fur- 
nished with  a  large  detail  of  men  and,  with  much  trouble,  made 
three  trips  to  the  front  during  the  night  with  pack-mules  loaded 
with  ammunition.  About  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  I  took 
the  saddle  off  my  horse  for  the  first  time  in  two  days  and 
nights,  and  lay  down  in  a  wagon  in  my  clothing,  soaked  for 
two  days  with  rain.  I  was  exhausted,  and  succeeded  in  getting 
two  hours'  sleep. 

All  day  on  the  twentieth  we  were  kept  on  the  alert.  The 
troops  on  both  sides  held  the  positions  they  occupied,  after 
the  close  of  the  two  days'  fighting.  The  mules  had  not  been 

331 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

unharnessed  since  we  had  left  camp  three  days  before  and  the 
horses  were  kept  saddled.  It  had  stopped  raining,  and  our 
troops  were  busy  strengthening  their  breast-works,  while  the 
pickets  kept  up  firing.  I  made  one  trip  to  the  lines  with  pack- 
mules  after  dark,  and  about  eleven  o'clock  reported  at  Gen- 
eral Ayres's  headquarters  for  orders. 

The  division  headquarters  were  in  a  small  farm-house. 
Some  officers'  and  orderlies'  horses  were  tied  to  the  picket 
fence  in  front  of  the  house.  When  I  had  tied  my  horse  and 
was  stepping  aside,  one  of  the  other  horses  landed  a  kick 
on  my  right  thigh  which  sent  me  sprawling  into  the  muddy 
road.  Strange  to  say,  I  was  very  little  hurt  by  this  kick,  which 
must  have  been  delivered  at  too  short,  or  too  long,  a  range. 
I  considered  myself  fortunate  to  escape  so  easily.  Only  a 
week  before  one  of  the  teamsters  was  kicked  by  a  mule  and 
died  on  the  same  day.  When  I  picked  myself  up  and  looked 
around  for  some  means  to  clean  my  hands  and  clothing,  I 
noticed  a  kitchen  extension  behind  the  house  with  a  light  in  it. 
There  I  found  the  general's  soldier-cook,  who  knew  me.  Be- 
sides being  dirty,  I  was  half  famished ;  and  he  fed  me  sub- 
stantially and  gave  me  hot  coffee,  which  I  had  been  without 
for  three  days.  A  drink  of  the  general's  whiskey  and  one  of 
his  cigars  concluded  the  most  satisfactory  and  enjoyable  feast 
I  think  I  ever  had,  and  I  still  remember  the  general's  cook 
most  gratefully. 

The  loss  of  the  Weldon  railroad  was  of  such  importance  to 
the  enemy  that  General  Lee  largely  reinforced  his  line  of 
troops,  while  to  our  force  was  added  the  Ninth  Army  Corps, 
which  took  position  on  our  right,  closing  up  a  gap  towards  the 
Jerusalem  Plank  road.  On  the  morning  of  August  twenty- 
first,  a  bright  sun-shiny  day,  the  enemy  made  an  attack  on  our 
right  and  center  and  were  repulsed,  mainly  by  our  well-served 
artillery.  At  a  later  hour  in  the  morning,  a  more  vigorous 
attempt  was  made  on  our  left  near  the  Globe  Tavern,  of  which 
I  had  a  close  view,  my  train  being  parked  at  the  edge  of  the 
same  woods,  beside  the  tavern.  A  part  of  the  enemy  charged 
through  a  gap  in  our  lines,  but  were  almost  surrounded  and 

332 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

more  than  five  hundred  men  and  six  flags  were  captured.  The 
Rebels,  repulsed  at  all  points,  retreated  to  their  lines  and  the 
battle  was  over  at  noontime. 

When  the  firing  had  nearly  ceased,  I  was  ordered  out  with 
two  loads  of  ammunition.  My  division  was  stationed  behind 
breast-works,  which  were  at  right  angles  to  and  across  the 
Halifax  road,  nearly  half  a  mile  north  of  the  tavern.  As  I 
neared  the  breast-works,  the  white  covers  of  my  two  wagons 
were  perceived  and  the  enemy's  pickets  concentrated  a  lively 
fire  on  the  wagons,  although  they  could  only  hit  the  tops  and 
not  the  mules,  owing  to  the  height  of  the  log  breast-works. 
The  teamster  of  the  leading  team  jumped  off  his  saddle, 
dropped  his  lines  and  threw  himself  flat  on  the  side  of  the 
road.  I  seized  the  bridle  of  one  of  the  lead-mules  and  guided 
the  team  off  the  road  to  some  depressed  ground,  followed  by 
the  other  wagon.  There  the  ammunition  was  issued,  and  1 
was  preparing  to  depart  when  the  teamster  returned,  some- 
what shamefaced,  saying  he  was  a  citizen  employee  and  did 
not  want  to  be  shot.  On  our  return  to  camp,  we  ran  the 
gauntlet  of  the  pickets  at  a  gallop  and  were  quickly  out  of 
range. 

The  losses  in  the  Fifth  Corps,  during  the  three  days'  battle, 
were  about  thirty-six  hundred  in  killed,  wounded  and  cap- 
tured. On  the  night  of  this  day  I  got  a  fair  amount  of  sleep 
and  felt  much  refreshed  the  next  morning.  The  enemy  had 
retired  for  some  distance  and  our  pickets  were  advanced  a 
mile  beyond  our  breast-works,  leaving  us  in  possession  of 
nearly  all  the  ground  they  had  occupied. 

Lieutenant  Pond,  who  had  reported  for  duty,  ordered  me 
outside  of  the  breast-works  during  the  afternoon  of  this  day 
with  wagons  and  a  large  detail  of  men  to  collect  the  abandoned 
arms  on  the  battle-field.  The  wounded  had  been  removed  and 
the  dead  buried;  only  dead  horses  remained.  After  dark  I 
was  sent  out  again  to  the  picket  line  on  the  ground  of  the  first 
day's  battle.  There  we  collected  a  large  number  of  arms, 
remaining  until  approaching  daylight  warned  us  to  depart 
and  avoid  drawing  the  enemy's  picket  fire.  On  the  following 

333 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

night  this  was  repeated  under  a  heavy,  soaking  rain.  I  col- 
lected upwards  of  fifteen  hundred  fire-arms,  of  which  more 
than  half  were  those  of  the  Rebels.  There  were  rifles,  mus- 
kets and  carbines;  also  bayonets,  swords,  belts  and  cartridge 
boxes.  The  arms  were  rusty  from  having  lain  on  the  field 
during  several  days'  rain. 

It  was  necessary  to  classify  these  arms,  make  a  report  of 
them  and  turn  them  over  to  the  ordnance  depot  at  City  Point. 
This  work  kept  me,  with  the  assistance  of  the  ammunition 
guard,  occupied  for  several  days.  Arms  that  were  charged 
had  to  be  fired,  or  the  charges  withdrawn,  which  was  difficult 
in  their  rusty  state.  This  work  proved  interesting  to  me  and 
coincided  with  my  own  observations  when  in  the  ranks  with 
my  company  in  battle.  I  found  that  the  ram-rods  were  missing 
from  a  considerable  number  of  discharged  guns,  and  a  greater 
number  had  failed  to  be  discharged  on  account  of  defective 
caps,  or  a  befouled  nipple.  Some  were  doubly  charged,  and 
an  occasional  one  had  three,  or  even  four,  cartridges  in  the 
barrel,  indicating  that  the  soldier  continued  to  load  without 
noticing  that  his  piece  had  not  been  discharged.  Others  were 
bursted  at  the  muzzle,  showing  that  the  tompion  had  not  been 
removed  before  firing.  There  were  some  with  stocks  broken 
by  violence,  probably  by  cool-headed  men  taken  prisoners,  who 
thoughtfully  rendered  their  arms  unserviceable.  Such  of  the 
guns  as  had  more  than  one  charge  in  the  barrel  were  fastened 
to  a  tree  and,  after  fresh  priming,  we  pulled  the  trigger  with 
the  aid  of  a  string,  at  a  safe  distance.  A  few  that  could  neither 
be  drawn  nor  discharged,  we  buried  in  the  ground.  It  has 
been  said  that  it  takes  a  man's  weight  in  lead  for  every  soldier 
killed  in  battle.  I  am  inclined  to  almost  believe  that,  from  my 
own  observations  and  from  the  amount  of  ammunition  I 
knew  to  be  expended  on  the  battle-field  of  the  Weldon  Rail- 
road, where  I  noticed  innumerable  bullet  marks  on  trees  stand- 
ing on  level  ground,  at  height  that  could  only  endanger  birds. 

For  the  next  few  days  the  troops  were  occupied  in  further 
strengthening  their  positions  and  in  destroying  the  railroad 
north  and  south,  as  far  as  our  picket  lines.  This  was  accom- 

334 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

plished  in  sections,  by  stationing  a  few  hundred  men  close 
together  on  one  side  of  the  track  and  lifting  the  rails  at  the 
word  of  command,  some  with  fence  rails  for  levers,  others 
with  their  hands,  and  tossing  them  over  with  the  sleepers 
clinging  to  them.  Huge  fires  were  then  made  with  the  sleepers 
and  the  rails  were  laid  over  them.  When  the  rails  were  suffi- 
ciently heated  in  the  middle  they  were  bent  by  their  own 
weight.  When  there  were  trees  near-by,  the  heated  rails  were 
twisted  around  them  to  make  the  rails  still  more  unservice- 
able. 

Although  we  had  made  a  successful  and  firm  lodgment  on 
the  Weldon  railroad,  the  enemy  could  still  use  the  road  beyond 
our  left  as  a  line  of  supply  and  reach  Petersburg  in  one  day's 
hauling  by  wagons.  General  Meade  ordered  General  Hancock 
with  two  divisions  of  the  Second  Corps  and  some  cavalry  to 
extend  the  destruction  of  the  road  as  far  as  Ream's  Station, 
or  further.  At  Ream's  Station  General  Hancock  was  met  by 
a  superior  force  of  the  enemy  on  the  twenty-fifth,  and  after 
a  disastrous  engagement,  in  which  he  lost  about  twenty- four 
hundred  men,  was  obliged  to  retire. 

Next  day  some  shifting  of  troops  took  place  to  secure  our 
left  and  rear ;  the  ordnance  camp  was  shifted  about  half  a  mile 
away  from  the  Globe  Tavern.  After  the  middle  of  August  the 
long  drought  of  midsummer  was  replaced  by  a  rainy  season, 
which  lasted  until  the  end  of  the  first  week  in  September  and 
made  life  miserable  in  the  breast-works  and  in  camp. 

As  the  result  of  recent  drafts,  many  recruits  now  joined 
the  army;  they  came  uninstructed  and  without  being  disci- 
plined. A  few  of  them  were  volunteers,  but  the  greater  part 
were  drafted  or  substitutes.  All  had  received  bounties — some 
of  them  a  thousand  dollars  or  more.  This  had  a  bad  effect 
on  the  veteran  volunteer  regiments.  In  many  cases  the  re- 
cruits out-numbered  the  veterans  of  high  reputation,  and 
changed  the  character  of  the  regiment,  to  its  disadvantage. 
Many  of  these  recruits  intended  to  escape  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity and  some  deserted  to  the  enemy. 

August  thirty-first  was  muster  day;  six  months'  pay  was 

335 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

due  us,  and  though  the  army  was  not  very  far  from  Wash- 
ington and  the  United  States  Treasury,  payment  to  the  sol- 
diers at  this  period  of  the  war  was  very  infrequent. 

Throughout  the  month  of  September  nothing  occurred  in 
front  of  the  Fifth  Corps  except  picket  firing,  and  but  little 
cannonading.  I  made  some  trips  to  City  Point  for  ammuni- 
tion and  arms,  until  the  extension  of  the  United  States  Mili- 
tary railroad  to  the  Globe  Tavern  on  the  Weldon  railroad  made 
that  no  longer  necessary.  On  the  night  of  the  twenty-ninth, 
after  midnight,  I  issued  ammunition  at  the  division  head- 
quarters, so  as  to  furnish  every  man  with  sixty  rounds,  forty 
of  which  could  be  carried  in  his  cartridge  box,  the  remaining 
twenty  rounds  in  his  knapsack  or  in  his  pockets.  The  ordnance 
train  was  ordered  a  short  distance  further  to  the  rear,  near  the 
Gurley  house,  to  be  in  readiness  to  move  at  a  moment's  notice. 
An  attempt  to  gain  possession  of  the  Southside  railroad  on 
our  left  was  to  be  made.  Our  works  were  largely  stripped  of 
troops  for  this  purpose  and,  for  safety,  nearly  all  other  supply 
trains,  except  ammunition,  were  sent  to  City  Point. 

We  remained  hitched  up  all  day  and  all  night.  During  the 
night  it  rained  and  turned  cold  and  continued  to  rain  next 
day.  I  turned  into  one  of  the  wagons,  together  with  the  team- 
ster, to  get  some  sleep.  During  the  night  I  was  awakened  by 
the  mules  starting  off  with  the  wagon,  and  the  voice  of  the 
teamster  who,  with  his  head  out  of  the  back  of  the  wagon,  was 
calling  to  the  wagon-master,  "Oh,  Charley!  I'm  damned  if 
my  mules  with  tongue  and  all  ain't  gone."  It  appeared  he  had 
neglected  to  lock  the  wheels  and,  in  his  confused  state,  mistook 
the  back  of  the  wagon  for  the  front. 

The  next  morning,  October  first,  I  was  ordered  away  with 
three  loads  of  ammunition  for  the  division.  I  passed  Poplar 
Spring  Church  on  the  way  and  went  on  to  the  Squirrel  Level 
road,  where  General  Ayres  had  his  head-quarters  in  a  house 
near  a  redoubt  and  breast-works,  which  the  division  had  taken 
from  the  enemy  the  preceding  day.  I  arrived  there  about  noon 
and  was  ordered  to  leave  two  of  my  wagons  at  head-quarters 
and  proceed  with  the  other  to  the  front  line  about  a  mile  in 

336 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

advance.  There  I  began  to  serve  out  ammunition  to  the  details 
sent  for  it.  I  had  selected  a  position  which  I  thought  would 
screen  the  wagon  from  the  enemy's  picket  line,  but  presently 
an  occasional  bullet  struck  the  wagon  cover,  fired  probably 
by  sharp-shooters,  posted  in  high  trees.  A  man  of  the  detail 
received  a  serious  wound  in  the  shoulder  and  I  withdrew  to 
a  less  exposed  position,  where  I  was  able  to  complete  my  task 
unmolested  and  then  returned  to  head-quarters. 

Next  morning  early  there  was  some  firing  at  the  front  where 
our  troops  were  driving  the  Rebel  pickets  further  back.  A 
large  house,  fired  by  our  skirmishers,  was  burning;  it  had 
harboured  Rebel  sharp-shooters,  who  had  done  much  damage 
the  preceding  day. 

I  was  sent  out  to  the  lines  again  at  noon  and  remained  there 
until  evening.  My  station  was  next  to  one  of  our  batteries, 
which  fired  an  occasional  shell  into  the  enemy's  lines  without 
provoking  any  reply.  A  wagon-load  of  muskets  were  picked 
up  on  the  field,  which  I  took  back  to  head-quarters. 

The  losses  in  the  Fifth  Corps,  in  what  was  known  as  the 
battle  of  Poplar  Spring  Church,  amounted  to  upwards  of  six 
hundred.  After  a  feeble  attempt  by  the  enemy  to  assault  our 
position  on  the  evening  of  October  first,  the  two  opposing 
lines  held  their  position  for  about  three  weeks.  Our  men 
strengthened  their  breast-works  and  the  engineers  built  some 
redoubts.  The  balance  of  the  ordnance  train  arrived  and  we 
established  a  camp.  My  tent  was  put  up  and  our  duties  went 
on,  as  they  had  at  the  Globe  Tavern.  During  the  latter  part 
of  September  and  the  first  week  in  October,  we  again  had  an 
inordinate  quantity  of  rain  after  the  long  summer  drought, 
which  made  camp  life  miserable,  the  more  so  as  the  nights  were 
getting  cold. 

In  compliance  with  General  Grant's  order  to  extend  the 
left  of  our  army  and  gain  possession  of  the  Southside  railroad, 
another  important  means  of  supply  for  the  enemy,  preparations 
for  the  movement  were  begun  on  the  twenty-fifth  of  October. 
On  that  day  I  issued  ammunition  to  the  division;  also  arms 
to  some  newly  arrived  soldiers.  On  the  morning  of  the 

337 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

twenty-seventh  the  movement  commenced;  the  ordnance  and 
other  supply  trains  were  ordered  back  to  the  Globe  Tavern, 
there  to  await  orders.  As  the  troops  marched  off  at  daylight, 
a  heavy  rain  fell  which  bade  fair  to  continue.  For  nearly 
three  weeks  we  had  enjoyed  beautiful  weather  and  the  roads 
were  dry  and  dusty,  until  this  movement  started.  The  enemy's 
right  was  encountered  about  nine  A.  M.  and  spirited  engage- 
ments took  place  during  the  day,  but  the  attempt  to  gain  the 
Southside  railroad  was  a  failure  at  this  time.  During  the 
night  of  the  twenty-seventh,  and  the  morning  of  the  twenty- 
eighth,  the  divisions  of  the  Second  and  Fifth  Corps,  engaged 
in  this  attempt,  were  withdrawn  to  their  former  lines  at  Poplar 
Spring  Church.  The  losses  in  the  Second  Corps  were  more 
than  fourteen  hundred,  while  those  in  the  Fifth  were  two 
hundred  and  seventy-nine. 

On  the  same  day  I  was  ordered  to  return  to  our  camp  at 
division  head-quarters.  While  at  this  camp,  I  saw  much  of  my 
company  which  was  doing  duty  as  provost  guard  at  General 
Ayres's  head-quarters.  After  the  arrival  of  the  army  at 
Petersburg,  the  six  skeleton  companies  of  my  regiment  were 
consolidated  into  two.  Company  D,  in  which  I  had  served  for 
more  than  nine  years,  ceased  to  exist,  and  I  became  a  member 
of  Company  C.  These  two  companies,  together  with  the  rem- 
nant of  the  band,  then  did  duty  at  division  head-quarters. 

On  the  thirty-first  of  October,  General  Grant  ordered  that 
all  of  the  regular  infantry,  serving  in  the  Fifth  Army  Corps, 
proceed  at  once  to  New  York  City  and  there  report  for  orders 
to  Major  General  Dix.  This  was  cheering  news  for  us.  We 
presumed  that  we  were  to  go  there  to  keep  the  peace  at  the 
coming  presidential  election,  for  which  Lincoln  and  McClellan 
were  the  candidates,  and  that  we  might  be  detained  there  for 
a  while  before  returning  to  the  field.  I  was  kept  busy  for  two 
days  in  trans  fering  ordnance  stores  and  making  out  the  neces- 
sary papers,  then  I  rejoined  my  company.  Next  morning, 
November  second,  1864,  at  an  early  hour,  all  the  regular  in- 
fantry boarded  a  train  composed  of  box  and  flat  cars,  waiting 
for  us  on  the  United  States  Military  railroad,  which  conveyed 

338 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

us  to  City  Point.  Transports  were  ready  for  us,  and  by  noon- 
time we  were  under  way  down  the  James  river  on  the  voyage 
to  New  York. 


339 


PART   XIV. 
DEPARTURE  FROM  THE  FIELD  AND  LAST  DAYS  OF  SERVICE  1865. 

THE  voyage  to  New  York  was  uneventful.  We  had  the 
usual  transport  discomforts  with  some  rough  and  cold 
weather  and,  on  the  second  day  before  the  election,  we 
reached  New  York  Harbor.  The  small  battalion  of  the  Second 
United  States  Infantry,  consisting  of  half  a  dozen  officers, 
about  seventy-five  men  and  a  dog,  landed  at  Fort  Hamilton 
dock,  along  with  about  half  the  other  troops  on  board.  The  re- 
mainder, as  well  as  those  on  another  transport,  were  distributed 
among  various  forts  in  the  vicinity  of  New  York.  We  marched 
to  the  fort  with  flying  colors,  but  we  had  no  band;  the  few 
remaining  members  of  our  band  were  doing  other  duty  and 
Sergeant  Lovell,  the  big  drum-major,  had  been  one  of  the  color 
sergeants  for  more  than  a  year.  My  company  was  quartered 
in  one  of  the  damp  and  gloomy  casemates  which  had  but  a 
single  window,  or  porthole,  overlooking  the  bay. 

On  election  day  we  were  not  allowed  to  go  outside  of  the 
fort.  Extra  ammunition  was  issued  and  a  thorough  inspection 
of  arms  was  held.  A  large  ferry-boat  remained  at  the  dock 
the  entire  day  to  transport  us  to  the  city  in  case  of  a  serious 
riot  which,  however,  did  not  occur. 

A  few  days  later  several  soldiers  in  the  company,  including 
myself,  secured  passes  to  visit  the  city.  We  had  to  walk  a  long 
distance  before  reaching  a  horse-car  line  to  take  us  to  one  of 
the  ferries  from  Brooklyn  to  New  York.  While  on  this  leave 
I  visited  my  old  friend,  Sergeant  Major  Milligan,  who  was  ill 
with  consumption  at  his  mother's  house.  The  hardships  of 
field  service  had  been  too  much  for  his  somewhat  delicate 
constitution.  It  was  the  last  time  I  saw  him.  He  died  within 
two  weeks,  much  beloved,  and  his  death  greatly  regretted  by 

341 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

his  comrades,  who  erected  a  modest  but  appropriate  monu- 
ment to  his  memory  in  New  York  Bay  Cemetery. 

During  our  short  stay  at  Fort  Hamilton,  we  performed 
regular  garrison  duty.  I  was  sergeant  of  the  guard  a  couple 
of  times  and  one  of  these  occasions  I  am  not  likely  to  forget. 
We  mounted  a  strong  guard  and  had  sentinels  posted  all 
around  the  fort  and  the  adjoining  redoubt.  The  guard-room 
and  prison  were  in  casemates  on  the  east  side  of  the  fort,  on 
each  side  of  a  sally-port.  At  that  time  nearly  fifty  prisoners 
were  in  confinement — the  toughest  element  I  ever  saw  in  the 
army.  Some  were  general  prisoners  undergoing  sentences — 
they  wore  a  ball  and  chain;  others  were  awaiting  trial  for 
various  crimes ;  and  there  were,  also,  a  small  number  of  ordi- 
nary "drunks."  It  was  customary  to  parade  and  call  the  roll 
of  the  prisoners  in  the  morning  when  the  guard  was  changed, 
and  again  at  retreat  in  the  evening,  before  they  were  locked 
up  for  the  night. 

A  few  of  the  prisoners  had  escaped  at  times,  which  made  a 
young  and  inexperienced  lieutenant,  who  was  officer  of  the 
day  on  my  first  tour  of  guard,  so  nervous  that  he  ordered 
most  extraordinary  and  unwise  precautions  against  a  recur- 
rence of  escapes.  He  ordered  me  to  turn  out  the  guard  and 
all  of  the  prisoners  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night  and  at  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning — hours  at  which  the  sentinels  were  not 
relieved.  The  officer  of  the  day  was  present  at  eleven,  when 
I  called  out  the  two  relieves  of  the  guard,  not  on  post,  and 
formed  ranks  in  the  sally-port.  Then  with  a  corporal  and 
two  files  of  the  guard,  we  started  to  turn  out  the  prisoners. 
They  objected  strenuously  at  the  unusual  proceeding  and 
cursed  and  swore  dreadfully.  It  took  a  long  time  to  turn  them 
all  out  and  count  them,  by  the  aid  of  a  lantern.  They  were  left 
standing  in  the  ranks,  half  clad  and  shivering,  while  the 
officer  of  the  day  ordered  me  to  accompany  him  for  an  inspec- 
tion of  the  prisoners'  quarters.  More  than  half  an  hour  had 
been  consumed  in  the  parading  of  the  prisoners. 

At  three  o'clock,  when  we  turned  them  out  for  the  second 
time,  there  was  almost  a  riot.  Some  swore  they  would  kill 

342 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

the  lieutenant,  others  refused  to  get  up  and  I  had  to  bring  in 
more  help  to  drag  them  from  their  bunks  and  push  them  into 
the  ranks,  with  only  a  blanket  to  cover  them.  They  yelled  and 
shouted  and  began  to  throw  things  at  the  guards  in  the  semi- 
darkness — the  only  light  being  from  a  few  lanterns.  The  lieu- 
tenant drew  his  sword  and  threatened  to  run  it  through  the 
body  of  any  prisoner  who  refused  to  obey  orders,  but  he 
prudently  remained  outside  the  doorway.  Now  all  this  trouble 
was  needless.  A  sentinel  was  posted  outside  the  prison  door 
and  another  at  the  only  window.  The  prisoners'  chances  of 
escape  by  slipping  away  in  the  darkness,  while  outside,  were 
better  than  when  locked  up.  When  the  post  commander  heard 
the  next  day  about  the  turning  out  of  the  prisoners  in  the 
night-time  he  ordered  that  it  should  not  be  repeated,  and  it 
may  be  assumed  that  the  over-zealous  lieutenant  was  admon- 
ished to  use  more  discretion  in  the  future. 

About  a  week  after  the  election,  my  company  (C)  received 
orders  to  be  ready  next  morning  in  full  marching  order  and 
proceed  to  Governor's  Island  to  escort  a  detachment  of  Rebel 
prisoners  from  there  to  Elmira,  New  York,  where  the  Gov- 
ernment had  established  a  large  prison  camp.  As  the  other 
company  remained  at  Fort  Hamilton,  we  supposed  that  we 
would  return  there  when  our  duty  had  been  performed.  We 
embarked  on  a  steam-boat  and  soon  arrived  at  the  Governor's 
Island  dock,  where  about  two  hundred  ragged  and  hungry 
"Rebs,"  who  had  been  confined  in  Castle  Williams  for  a  few 
days,  were  awaiting  us.  Each  prisoner,  as  he  stepped  on  board, 
received  a  loaf  of  bread  and  a  piece  of  boiled  beef  to  which 
he  immediately  did  ample  justice.  The  boat  started  for  Jersey 
City  where  we  put  the  prisoners  on  the  cars  of  the  Erie  rail- 
road. It  was  a  special  train,  made  up  of  emigrant  cars,  which 
made  but  few  stops.  I  had  charge  of  one  of  the  cars  in  which 
every  seat  but  four  for  the  guard  was  occupied  by  a  prisoner. 
With  me  were  six  privates  as  guards.  I  stationed  three  at  each 
end  of  the  car  with  their  loaded  rifles.  When  the  train  halted, 
one  of  the  guards  was  stationed  outside  on  each  side  of  the 
car,  and  I  also  descended. 

343 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

At  Goshen  and  some  other  stations  where  we  halted  for  a 
brief  time,  some  of  the  citizens  gave  the  prisoners  fruit,  cigars 
and  tobacco,  which  we  allowed  to  be  passed  to  them  through 
the  car  windows.  It  was  quite  late  at  night  when  we  arrived 
at  Elmira  and  turned  our  prisoners  over  to  some  guards,  who 
marched  them  to  the  prison  camp  two  miles  or  more  away. 
The  company  passed  the  remainder  of  the  night  in  some  freight 
sheds,  while  the  captain  and  lieutenant  put  up  at  the  nearest 
hotel. 

Next  morning  we  were  vexed  and  disgusted  at  learning  that 
we  were  not  to  go  back  to  New  York,  but  were  to  remain  at 
Elmira  to  guard  prisoners.  The  general  desire  was  to  go  back 
to  the  field  and  see  the  close  of  the  war,  of  which  a  part  of  the 
Second  Infantry  had  seen  the  beginning.  We  had  made  up 
our  minds  that  the  end  was  near;  prisoners  at  the  front  had 
told  us  of  the  dire  straits  of  General  Lee's  army  for  food 
and  clothing  and  the  rapidly  diminishing  forces.  We  felt 
angry  with  the  authorities  who  had  condemned  us  to  such  an 
inglorious  duty,  after  our  long  and  faithful  service  in  the  field, 
where  we  had  lost  more  than  a  third  of  our  number.  But 
there  was  no  help  for  it.  As  soldiers,  we  had  to  obey  orders. 
We  were  not  the  only  ones  thus  treated.  The  companies  of 
the  Twelfth  and  Seventeenth  Infantry,  who  had  left  the  field 
at  the  same  time,  had  arrived  here  a  few  days  before  and  were 
then  doing  duty.  Subsequently  we  learned  that  the  First  Bat- 
talion of  the  Eleventh  and  the  Second  Battalion  of  the  Twelfth 
were  returned  to  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  where  they  re- 
mained to  the  end  and  were  present  at  the  surrender  of 
General  Lee's  army.  The  company  left  at  Fort  Hamilton, 
together  with  our  small  "field  and  staff,"  was  sent  to  Newport 
Barracks,  Kentucky,  there  to  recruit  and  reform  the  Second 
Infantry  for  future  service. 

The  company  marched  from  the  Elmira  depot  a  long  dis- 
tance beyond  the  suburbs  of  the  town  to  the  prison  camp,  near 
which  we  encamped,  alongside  of  other  troops.  We  put  up 
"A"  tents  and  raided  some  hay-stacks  for  bedding.  It  was 
cold,  and  as  wood  was  furnished  for  cooking  purposes  only, 

344 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

we  crowded  around  the  kitchen  fire,  which  had  no  shelter,  to 
warm  ourselves.  All  the  troops,  except  the  recently  arrived 
regulars,  were  sheltered  in  temporary  barracks. 

The  force  guarding  the  Rebel  prisoners,  who  were  all  of 
the  fank  and  file,  was  composed  of  a  battery  of  artillery, 
nearly  a  thousand  regular  infantry,  several  regiments  of  the 
Veteran  Reserve  Corps  and  a  few  others.  The  Veteran  Re- 
serve Corps  was  a  new  organization,  something  like  Home 
Guards.  It  was  composed  of  men  considered  unfit  for  field 
duty.  In  its  ranks  were  a  considerable  number  of  men  who 
had  for  a  time  served  at  the  front.  The  active  soldiers  named 
this  organization  "The  Invalid  Corps."  Colonel  Moore  of 
the  Veteran  Reserve  Corps,  the  ranking  officer,  was  in  com- 
mand of  all  the  troops  of  the  prison  guard. 

The  prison  camp  near  Elmira  was  established  in  July,  1864, 
and,  at  the  time  of  our  arrival,  contained  upwards  of  ten 
thousand  prisoners.  They  had  been  in  tents  all  summer  but 
were  then  in  barracks,  within  a  stockade  enclosing  about  forty 
acres.  The  main  front  with  the  principal  gate  and  guard- 
house was  close  to  and  faced  the  road  leading  into  Elmira, 
the  back  was  near  the  Chemung  river.  A  platform,  from 
which  the  sentinels  could  overlook  the  prison  yards  and  dead 
line,  surrounded  the  entire  stockade. 

The  site  was  badly  chosen,  there  was  a  swamp  within  the 
enclosure  and  much  of  it  was  liable  to  be  overflowed  by  the 
Chemung  river.  A  great  amount  of  sickness  prevailed — at 
times  five  hundred  were  inmates  of  the  prison  hospital  and 
as  many  more  sick  in  quarters.  More  than  ten  per  cent,  of 
the  prisoners  died,  while  this  prison  existed;  two  thousand, 
nine  hundred  and  seventeen  were  buried  at  the  base  of  the 
hills  about  a  mile  from  the  prison.  The  greatest  mortality 
was  during  the  hard  winter  of  1864-'65,  when  often  a  dozen 
or  more  died  every  day  and  were  removed  every  morning  to 
be  buried  in  trenches  without  any  ceremony. 

The  Government  allowed  a  soldier's  rations  for  each  pris- 
oner, but  that  was  considered  too  much  for  men  who  had 
practically  no  exercise,  and  it  was  left  to  the  discretion  of  the 

345 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

prison  commander,  as  to  how  much  of  the  ration  was  to  be 
issued.  The  saving  was  to  constitute  a  fund  for  building 
quarters,  hospitals,  clothing,  bedding  and  other  supplies  for 
the  prisoners.  At  Elmira  the  prisoners  received  about  two- 
thirds  of  a  ration,  served  to  them  in  two  cooked  meals  daily. 
This  kept  them  somewhat  hungry,  but  they  were  far  better  off 
than  our  starving  and  shelterless  prisoners  in  the  South.  When 
the  inhuman  treatment  of  our  soldiers  in  the  Southern  prisons 
became  known  in  the  North,  there  was  a  hue  and  cry  for 
retaliation ;  but  I  think  none  of  it  was  practised  in  the  Northern 
prisons.  The  suspension  of  the  exchange  of  prisoners  during 
1864  by  our  Government  caused  increased  suffering  and  many 
deaths  of  our  soldiers  in  the  Southern  prisons. 

Opposite  the  prison  pen,  on  land  not  leased  by  the  Govern- 
ment, several  open-timbered  observation  towers  had  been 
erected  by  citizens.  They  were  about  forty  feet  in  height  with 
a  flat  deck  on  top,  which  had  stairs  leading  up  to  it.  From 
the  top  of  these  towers  a  good  view  of  the  interior  of  the 
prison  and  its  teeming  inmates  could  be  had  for  the  payment 
of  ten  cents  admission  fee.  On  clear  days,  and  especially  on 
Sundays,  many  of  Elmira's  citizens  availed  themselves  of  this 
opportunity  to  see  the  Rebel  prisoners.  The  lower  part  of 
these  structures  were  enclosed  and  used  as  groggeries,  mainly 
patronized  by  soldiers.  These  places  and  some  others  along 
the  road  to  town  made  trouble  for  the  provost  guard  and  pro- 
vided inmates  for  the  guard-house. 

On  the  second  day  after  our  arrival,  Colonel  Moore  ordered 
that  one  of  the  regular  sergeants  be  detailed  to  act  as  post 
sergeant  major.  I  was  selected  for  the  position  and  ordered 
to  report  to  the  post  adjutant  for  duty.  The  adjutant's  office 
was  in  a  temporary  building  near  the  prison  gate.  It  consisted 
of  one  large  room,  furnished  with  a  number  of  desks  and  a 
stove.  There  were  three  clerks  employed,  all  of  whom  be- 
longed to  the  Invalid  Corps.  I  performed  the  duties  of  a 
sergeant  major  at  the  guard-mount  parade  every  morning 
which  was  no  small  affair,  as  the  daily  guard  numbered  more 
than  two  hundred.  After  guard-mount,  Colonel  Moore  and 

246 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

the  adjutant  spent  a  few  hours  at  the  office,  while  the  clerks 
and  I  were  busy  consolidating  the  morning  reports  of  the 
troops  and  making  out  guard  details  from  rosters  for  the 
following  day.  In  the  afternoon  I  was  generally  free  to  do 
as  I  pleased,  go  to  town  or  to  my  cold  camp,  for  I  had  to  mess 
with  my  company  and  sleep  in  my  tent.  I  had  a  standing  pass 
to  go  anywhere  about  Elmira;  but  when  the  weather  was 
bad,  I  usually  remained  in  the  adjutant's  office  until  it  closed 
in  the  evening.  The  hot  stove  there  had  an  attraction  for  me. 
One  night  there  was  a  noisy  disturbance  and  fighting  among 
the  soldiers  in  one  of  the  groggeries.  The  provost  guard 
arrested  every  one  there,  including  Quinn,  the  proprietor.  Next 
morning  a  boy  came  into  the  adjutant's  office  and  handed 
Colonel  Moore  a  dirty,  crumpled  piece  of  paper  on  which  was 
scrawled  in  pencil — 

Kurnell  Moore  sir  i  am  in  the  gard  hous  sir  and  i  dunno  for  wat  sir 
im  a  sitisen  sir  and  me  name  is  Patrick  Quinn  sir. 

The  Colonel  was  an  elderly  man  with  a  good  sense  of  humor ; 
he  was  much  amused  by  this  note  and  pinned  it  up  on  the 
wall  over  his  desk  where  he  often  called  some  of  the  visiting 
officers'  attention  to  it.  As  for  "Patrick  Quinn  sir"  he  had  to 
be  released,  as  he  had  a  city  license  and  was  not  located  on 
Government  ground. 

On  Thanksgiving  Day,  the  ladies  of  Elmira  provided  a 
turkey  dinner  for  all  the  soldiers.  We  marched  by  detach- 
ments to  a  temporary  hall,  neatly  decorated  for  the  occasion. 
There  was  a  band  and  an  abundant  dinner  served  by  the 
ladies  themselves.  At  its  close  we  gave  thanks  to  the  ladies 
of  Elmira  in  speech  and  in  rousing  cheers. 

After  Thanksgiving  Day  we  had  deep  snow,  and  it  became 
so  cold  that  we  suffered  greatly  in  our  camp.  Temporary 
quarters  were  being  erected  for  the  regulars,  but  they  were 
not  ready  until  the  first  week  in  December.  My  company  did 
not  occupy  them ;  we  were  sent  to  Barracks  No.  2,  which  was 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  town,  on  the  outskirts,  more  than 
three  miles  from  our  camp.  Owing  to  this  move  I  lost  my 

347 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

position  of  post  sergeant  major,  which  I  had  held  for  only 
three  weeks.  At  Barracks  No.  2  we  were  fairly  comfortable. 
We  had  stoves  and  bunks  in  the  quarters.  A  few  other  com- 
panies were  quartered  there,  but  no  Rebel  prisoners.  We  did 
the  ordinary  garrison  duty  and  had  much  spare  time  to  walk 
around  the  town,  going  sometimes  to  a  theatre,  when  a  troupe 
came  to  town.  The  shows  were  held  in  a  hall  on  the  second 
floor  of  a  building  on  the  principal  street.  I  particularly  re- 
member a  piece  called,  "The  Sea  of  Ice,"  in  which,  owing  to 
the  limited  height  of  the  pasteboard  icebergs  on  the  stage,  the 
actors  were  forced  to  stoop  low  when  trying  to  conceal  them- 
selves from  the  bloodthirsty  Eskimos. 

During  the  winter,  which  was  severe,  the  first  sergeant  of 
my  company  reenlisted,  receiving  a  two  months'  furlough,  and 
in  his  absence  I  acted  as  first  sergeant.  I  have  still  in  my  pos- 
session the  company  roll,  as  I  then  daily  called  it.  Only  ten 
names  of  soldiers,  who  had  served  on  the  frontiers,  remained ; 
all  the  others  were  the  names  of  men  who  had  joined  during 
the  war.  Of  the  officers,  there  were  but  seven  in  the  regiment 
who  had  seen  frontier  service,  all  of  them  serving  elsewhere 
at  this  time.  Not  one  of  these  seven  officers  belonged  to  the 
regiment  at  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  they  had  all  been  pro- 
moted into  it.  Captain  William  F.  Drum  was  in  command  of 
Company  C,  but  left  us  during  the  month  of  February  to 
become  the  colonel  of  the  Fifth  New  York  Veteran  Volun- 
teers, then  serving  in  the  field  in  the  Fifth  Army  Corps  under 
General  Warren.  Captain  Drum,  whose  esteem  I  possessed, 
told  me  before  his  departure  that,  after  he  took  command  of 
his  regiment,  he  would  apply  to  Governor  Fenton  of  New 
York  for  a  commission  for  me  as  he  desired  to  have  me  serve 
with  him  after  my  discharge,  which  was  soon  to  take  place. 
A  few  weeks  later  he  wrote  me,  saying  he  had  made  the 
application. 

About  the  middle  of  March,  1865,  we  left  Barracks  No.  2 
and  again  went  into  camp  near  the  prison  pen,  on  the  same 
ground  we  had  occupied  previously.  The  ice  in  the  Chemung 
river  had  broken  up  and  melting  snow  raised  the  river  until  it 

348 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

'  overflowed  its  banks  and  inundated  a  part  of  the  prison  barrack 
buildings,  causing  much  suffering  among  the  inmates.  In  a 
few  days  the  first  sergeant  returned  from  furlough;  but  as  I 
had  not  many  more  days  to  serve,  I  was  excused  from  guard 
duty.  At  the  request  of  the  company  commander,  Brv't. 
Captain  William  Falk,  I  devoted  the  last  days  of  my  service 
to  putting  the  company's  books  and  papers  in  thorough  order. 

On  the  twenty-fourth  day  of  March,  1865,  I  received  my 
discharge  from  the  army  for  the  second  time,  by  no  means 
certain  that  I  would  not  rejoin  again.  I  put  on  my  best  uniform 
and  disposed  of  my  little  belongings  among  my  comrades.  I 
received  my  final  statements,  which  I  handed  to  a  paymaster, 
permanently  stationed  in  Elmira,  who  paid  me  in  full.  That 
evening  with  a  few  special  friends  I  had  dinner  at  a  hotel  in 
the  town,  and  at  about  nine  o'clock  bade  them  farewell  at  the 
depot.  I  boarded  a  train,  spent  the  night  on  a  seat,  and  ar- 
rived in  New  York  next  morning. 

I  had  a  letter  to  Colonel  Richard  I.  Dodge,  who  was  the 
chief  mustering  and  disbursing  officer  in  New  York  city,  with 
the  principal  offices  at  23  and  25  St.  Marks  Place.  Colonel 
Dodge  employed  me  at  once  as  a  clerk  at  seventy-five  dollars 
per  month.  In  a  few  days  I  entered  upon  my  duties  under 
Captain  Henry  A.  Ellis,  in  whose  office  there  were  half  a 
dozen  other  clerks,  all  but  one  being  discharged  soldiers,  some 
of  whom  I  had  known  in  the  field.  Our  duties  consisted  in 
making  discharges  and  final  statements  for  individual  soldiers, 
regulars  and  volunteers.  Later  on,  when  the  army  disbanded, 
we  made  out  the  muster  rolls  and  final  accounts  for  many 
volunteer  regiments,  who  were  mustered  out  of  the  service  in 
New  York. 

General  Grant  had  put  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  in  motion,  ~ 
and  on  the  first  day  of  April,  the  battle  of  Five  Forks  was 
successfully  fought,  which  indicated  the  end  of  the  Confed- 
eracy. All  this  time  I  was  anxiously  awaiting  the  arrival  of 
my  commission  for  I  ardently  wished  to  be  present  at  the  final 
stage  of  the  war.  General  Lee  surrendered  on  the  ninth  of 
April  to  General  Grant,  and  General  Johnston  to  General  Sher- 

349 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

man  a  week  later.  Peace  was  soon  declared.  The  grand  re- 
view of  Grant  and  Sherman's  veteran  soldiers  was  held  in 
Washington  on  May  twenty-fourth  and,  by  June  first,  the 
Fifth* Army  Corps  had  ceased  to  exist. 

I  received  the  commission  from  Albany  early  in  June  but  I 
wrote  to  Colonel  Drum  informing  him  that,  in  as  much  as  the 
Fifth  New  York  Veteran  Volunteers  were  likely  to  be  mus- 
tered out  of  service  within  a  month,  I  had  decided  not  to  be 
mustered  in  to  join  the  regiment  for  so  short  a  time.  I 
have  since  regretted  that  I  did  not  serve  as  an  officer,  even 
for  so  short  a  time.  The  fact  of  not  having  been  mustered  in 
debars  me  from  becoming  a  member  of  the  Loyal  Legion  ac- 
cording to  its  rules,  no  matter  how  much  service  I  had  in  the 
field. 

We  were  busy  during  the  summer  mustering  out  troops,  and 
opened  a  branch  office  at  the  south-west  corner  of  Broome  and 
Elm  Street  where,  under  Lieutenant  Netterville  of  the  Twelfth 
United  States  Infantry,  I  remained  for  a  few  months.  In 
the  fall  I  was  returned  to  the  main  office,  where  I  continued 
until  the  month  of  January,  1866,  when  the  mustering  and 
disbursing  office  was  ordered  to  be  closed.  This  proved  to  be 
my  final  service  for  the  Government,  in  or  out  of  the  army. 
Henceforth  I  was  to  be  a  citizen. 


350 


REFLECTIONS. 

I  SOMETIMES  ask  myself  the  questions— Was  my  army 
service  a  benefit  or  a  detriment  to  me  in  after  life? 
Would  I  have  attained  a  better  condition  and  standing,  if 
I  had  not  been  in  the  military  service?  These  are  questions 
hard  to  answer  in  my  case,  as  I  had  to  struggle  for  a  living 
and  had  no  one  to  give  me  a  helping  hand  to  gain  a  higher 
plane.  When  I  left  the  army  I  was  not  yet  twenty- four  and 
totally  inexperienced  in  earning  a  livelihood  in  civil  life,  which 
was  rendered  more  difficult  by  the  fact  that  a  million  young 
men  were  released  from  the  army  at  the  same  time,  all  seeking 
new  careers  outside  of  military  service.  An  element  of  luck 
and  some  of  the  habits  I  had  acquired  in  the  army  were 
beneficial  to  me.  The  military  training  taught  me  responsi- 
bility, promptness  and  self-control,  which  I  found  useful  in  my 
long  business  career  and  as  an  employer.  The  out-of-door 
life  for  ten  years  fortified  me  in  health,  which  has  lasted  to 
the  present  day  and  for  which  I  am  most  grateful.  I  have 
much  to  be  thankful  for  and  little  to  regret. 

I  believe  that  a  three  years'  term  of  army  service  would  be 
beneficial  to  most  young  men  of  good  character  and  habits. 
To-day  soldiers  of  the  United  States  Army  enjoy  many  ad- 
vantages and  comforts  that  were  unknown  to  the  older  army 
in  times  of  peace;  the  soldiers'  pay,  food  and  clothing  are 
better,  and  the  discipline  is  less  strict.  I  have  visted  a  number 
of  home  garrisons  and  those  in  Honolulu  and  Manila,  in  all 
of  which  I  found  the  quarters  comfortable,  clean  and  sanitary. 
There  are  libraries,  schools  and  club-rooms ;  and  separate  beds 
with  sheets  and  pillows  are  provided  for  each  soldier,  a  luxury 
formerly  unheard  of  in  garrisons.  I  have  seen  British  soldiers 
serving  in  India  and  those  of  other  nations  on  foreign  service 

351 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

in  various  parts  of  the  world;  but  I  think  the  American  sol- 
diers now  receive  better  care  and  more  liberal  treatment  than 
those  of  other  nations.  It  has  always  been  a  soldier's  habit  and 
privilege  to  grumble.  I  suppose  there  is  as  much  grumbling 
to-day  in  the  army  as  there  was  in  former  times. 

AUGUSTUS  MEYERS, 
Sergeant,  Second  U.  S.  Infantry. 

November  17,  1913. 


352 


ADDENDA. 

On  a  recent  tour  of  the  northwestern  states  I  visited  Sioux  City. 
There,  in  September,  1913,  I  found  a  large  and  prosperous  city  with 
many  fine  buildings,  where  there  had  been  only  a  wilderness  in  1855. 
The  riverfront  was  unrecognizable  to  me.  The  early  houses  that  once 
clustered  there  had  been  replaced  by  a  railroad  yard. 

I  had  the  good  fortune  to  meet  Mr.  J.  M.  Pinkney,  a  congenial 
business  man  who  had  lived  in  Sioux  City  almost  from  its  foundation. 
He  was  well  informed  and  we  had  a  long  and  interesting  conversation 
about  the  early  days  when  the  city  was  a  mere  frontier  settlement. 
Mr.  Pinkney  introduced  me  at  the  office  of  the  Sioux  City  Journal 
where  I  was  courteously  received.  I  found  the  Journal  to  be  a  large 
up-to-date  newspaper  such  as  one  would  expect  to  find  only  in  a  great 
metropolis. 

I  was  seized  with  a  strong  desire  to  revisit  Fort  Pierre,  although  I 
had  no  pleasant  recollections  of  it.  To  me  it  brought  only  thoughts  of 
suffering.  I  left  Sioux  City  on  a  late  night  train  and  arrived  at  Pierre, 
the  capital  of  South  Dakota,  in  the  middle  of  the  next  afternoon. 
Pierre,  built  mainly  on  hills  overlooking  the  Missouri  River,  is  a  city 
of  only  about  three  thousand  inhabitants,  but  boasts  a  large  and 
magnificent  capital  building  surpassed  by  few  in  the  western  states. 
There  is  also  a  modern  fire-proof  hotel,  a  government  post  office,  a 
Carnegie  library  and  other  buildings  worthy  of  note.  A  substantial 
railroad  bridge  crosses  the  Missouri. 

The  smaller  town  of  Fort  Pierre,  the  county  seat  of  Stanley  County, 
South  Dakota,  is  directly  opposite  on  the  west  bank  of  the  river.  A 
small  motorboat  makes  hourly  ferry  trips,  communication  by  way  of 
the  railroad  bridge  being  infrequent. 

I  boarded  the  motorboat  next  morning,  September  eighth,  to  go  to 
Fort  Pierre,  where  I  had  arrived  fifty-eight  years  ago  in  the  same  month. 
I  found  the  Missouri  River  just  as  muddy  and  treacherous  for  navi- 
gation as  of  yore.  A  large  sandbar  made  a  long  detour  necessary  to 
reach  the  channel  on  the  western  side  of  it.  The  boat  ran  aground 
several  times,  and  finally  it  was  caught  so  hard  and  fast  that  we  had 
to  wait  for  the  other  ferry  to  haul  us  off  on  its  return  trip. 

There  were  two  other  passengers  on  the  boat  beside  myself,  one 
a  white  citizen  and  the  other  a  full  blooded  young  Sioux  who  had 
been  educated  at  Carlisle  School.  I  learned  from  them  that  the  old 
stockade  fort  no  longer  existed.  It  had  been  a  few  miles  further  up  the 

353 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

river,  but  they  could  not  tell  me  its  exact  location.  They  offered  to 
take  me  to  the  office  of  Mr.  Stanley  Philip,  the  owner  of  a  large  ranch 
near  the  site  of  the  fort.  Mr.  Philip  was  out,  but  they  introduced  me 
to  Mr.  C.  H.  Fales,  a  prominent  business  man  of  the  town,  who  kindly 
volunteered  to  show  me  the  site  of  the  old  fort. 

As  we  were  preparing  to  start,  Mr.  Philip  arrived  in  an  automobile 
and  invited  both  of  us  to  go  to  the  place  in  his  machine.  He  soon  set 
us  down  at  the  site  of  the  old  stockade  about  two  and  one-half  miles 
up  the  river.  Not  a  stick  remained  of  the  old  fort.  It  had  left  no  mark 
save  a  depression  in  the  ground  where  a  cellar  had  been.  I  recog- 
nized the  contour  of  the  low  hills  on  the  west  and  of  the  higher  hills 
across  the  river.  There  was  the  same  bleak  prairie  extending  back  to 
the  foothills  with  its  colonies  of  barking  prairie  dogs,  who  appeared 
to  me  to  be  somewhat  bolder  than  of  old. 

The  Indian  burial  place  had  disappeared,  but  the  island  in  the  river 
below  the  fort  was  still  there.  The  most  noticeable  change  was  in  the 
river  front.  The  channel  was  much  further  out,  and  a  wide  strip 
of  bottom  land,  covered  with  willows  and  brush,  had  formed  at  what 
was  once  an  abrupt  bank.  As  I  gazed  upon  this  changed  scene,  I 
thought  of  the  time  when  I  had  seen  the  plain  dotted  with  the  tepees 
of  thousands  of  Indians  who  had  assembled  at  that  very  spot  to  sign 
a  treaty  with  General  Harney. 

After  a  while  we  went  about  a  mile  up  the  river  to  Mr.  Philip's 
large  ranch  where  he  has  thirteen  thousand  acres  fenced  in  for  a 
buffalo  preserve.  There  are  more  than  three  hundred  of  the  animals 
roaming  at  large  among  the  hills  and  the  number  is  being  increased  by 
the  annual  addition  of  some  dozens  of  calves. 

Much  of  the  ranch  on  the  high  bottom  lands  along  the  shore  of 
the  Missouri  is  under  cultivation  and  is  yielding  good  crops.  All  this 
great  estate  I  had  seen  as  a  wilderness  that  I  was  glad  to  get  away 
from.  In  those  days  I  would  not  have  taken  the  whole  county  as  a 
gift  had  I  been  required  to  live  there.  Mr.  Philip,  who  manages  his 
own  ranch,  is  a  young  man.  His  father,  a  Scotchman,  lately  deceased, 
was  one  of  the  early  settlers  and  accumulated  the  property. 

On  the  way  back  to  Fort  Pierre,  which  is  a  neat  little  town  of  about 
one  thousand  people,  with  wide  streets  and  cement  sidewalks,  my 
companions  told  of  the  discovery  on  February  17,  1913,  of  a  lead  plate 
on  a  hill  back  of  the  town,  where  it  had  been  buried  by  French  ex- 
plorers in  1743.  It  is  now  the  property  of  Mr.  William  O'Reilly,  a 
resident  of  Fort  Pierre.  Mr.  O'Reilly  kindly  presented  me  with  a 
photograph  of  the  plate  and  a  translation  of  its  inscription.  He  also 
took  me  to  the  bank  where  it  is  kept  in  a  safe  deposit  vault  and 
allowed  me  to  examine  it  carefully.  It  is  of  thick  sheet  lead  about 
six  by  seven  inches  in  dimensions  and  but  little  corroded.  On  one  side 
is  the  seal  of  France  above  an  inscription  in  Latin.  Both  are  deeply 

354 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

stamped  in  the  lead  and  quite  legible.    A  translation  of  the  inscrption 
follows : 

In  the  twenty-sixth  year  of  Louis  XV's  reign,  in  the  name 
of  the  King,  most  illustrious  sovereign,  for  the  Governor, 
Marquis  of  Beauharnis,  in  1743  Peter  Gaultier  de  la  Verendrie 
deposited  this  plate. 

On  the  reverse  side  is  scratched  rather  irregularly  the  following 
inscription  in  French : 

Deposited  by  the  Chevalier  of  Laverdendried  (Witnesses) 
Louis  La  Louette,  A.  Miotte.  April  30,  1743. 

In  a  Fort  Pierre  book  store  I  was  able  to  procure  "A  Brief  History 
of  South  Dakota,"  written  in  1905  by  Doane  Robinson,  Secretary  of 
the  State  Historical  Society.  In  this  interesting  book  Mr.  Robinson 
says: 

"The  first  white  man  that  we  know  certainly  to  have  visited  South 
Dakota  was  a  young  man  named  Verendrye  (de  la  Verendrie  on  the 
plate),  in  the  year  of  1743.  He  claimed  the  land  for  the  King  of 
France,  and  on  a  hill  near  the  camp  planted  a  plate  engraved  with  the 
arms  of  France  and  marked  the  spot  with  a  pile  of  stones.  To  unearth 
that  plate  would  be  a  rich  find  for  some  enterprising  young  South 
Dakotan.  Taking  into  account  the  direction  traveled  and  the  time  spent 
in  making  the  trip,  it  is  most  likely  that  this  plate  rests  within  fifty 
miles  of  the  state  capitol." 

The  book  contains  many  items  of  special  interest  to  me.  On  one  of 
the  maps  is  shown  the  location  of  the  winter  cantonments  of  "Harney's 
troops  in  1856."  There  is  a  good  picture  of  "Old  Fort  Pierre  in  1855 
and  vicinity,"  also  a  ground  plan  of  the  fort  drawn  to  scale,  showing 
all  of  the  buildings  within  it.  This  plan  shows  the  fort  to  have  been 
three  hundred  by  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  square,  somewhat  larger 
than  I  judged  it  to  be  from  memory.  The  names  of  some  Indian  chiefs 
and  their  pictures  printed  in  the  book  bring  the  originals  back  to  my 
thoughts. 

In  the  afternoon  I  bade  farewell  to  the  two  gentlemen  who  had  been 
so  courteous  to  me.  I  was  the  only  passenger  on  the  ferry  when  the 
boatman  vainly  tried  to  make  her  start.  He  finally  went  up  the  street 
to  get  some  dry  batteries  and  returned  with  another  man.  They 
installed  new  batteries  and  took  much  of  the  machinery  apart  and 
put  it  together  again.  Still  the  boat  refused  to  budge.  Nearly  an 
hour  had  been  lost  and  I  was  beginning  to  get  apprehensive  about 
catching  my  train,  when  another  boat  arrived  from  the  east  shore. 
The  boatman  aboard  her  soon  found  what  the  trouble  was  and  we 
started  for  the  other  side  which  we  reached  without  mishap  save 
grounding  twice  on  the  sandbar. 

355 


TEN  YEARS  IN  THE  RANKS  U.S.  ARMY 

A  reporter  of  a  local  paper  caught  me  there,  but  I  had  time  to  give 
him  only  a  very  short  interview.  I  caught  the  train  for  the  east  with 
little  time  to  spare.  A  state  fair  was  being  held  at  Huron,  S.  D., 
four  hours'  ride  from  Pierre,  and  many  persons  got  on  at  the  inter- 
mediate stations.  Among  them  were  a  few  Indians  and  their  squaws. 
To  see  an  Indian  mount  the  steps  of  a  car,  carrying  a  suitcase,  seemed 
extraordinary  to  me.  Surely  the  Indian  as  I  knew  him  no  longer 
exists. 


356 


o 


